Shadow of the Moon
by Shadowblade217
Summary: John, Sam and Six arrive in Beacon Hills, searching for Number Five, and become involved with the supernatural creatures inhabiting the town. Set after the end of I Am Number Four and at the beginning of Season 2 of Teen Wolf.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lorien Legacies or Teen Wolf.**

_**Shadow of the Moon**_

**Prologue**

I still remember when I saw it on the news. Part of me never thought it would actually happen. Never thought that I would find another member of the Garde, still in hiding here on Earth.

But then I saw that news broadcast, the broadcast about the mysterious destruction of a school in Ohio and the strange boy, John Smith, who was somehow involved in the battle, and then disappeared without a trace. There was no missing that news. And there was no doubt in my mind that he is one of us.

I'd thought that we might not stand a chance. But the knowledge that one of us had fought back, and won… that gives me hope. But it also serves as a warning. Because they were still able to find him, which means that they could find any of us, and it doesn't matter where we are. Even here, in my current home – a small, isolated town called Beacon Hills – they could find me. And if they find me, I will die.

I need to find the others. Starting with John Smith, who I'm certain is Number Four. Finding each other, standing together, is our only chance.

They caught Number One in Malaysia.

Number Two in England.

And Number Three in Kenya.

They tried to catch Number Four in Ohio – but they failed.

I am Number Five.

One of the six remaining Loric Garde.

And I'm ready to join the fight.


	2. Chapter 1: Arrival

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lorien Legacies or Teen Wolf.**

**Chapter 1 - Arrival**

.

_**John Smith/Number Four**_

_Darkness… all around me, broken only by the light of a full moon gleaming in the sky above me. I look around, my eyes widening in fear, as I see the dark figures silently moving among the trees, circling me slowly, deliberately, preparing to strike._

_My hands light up, the blue light of my Lumen glowing brightly as I angle my hands to shine the beams into the trees. But a moment later, a feeling like icy water pouring down my back sweeps through me. I stagger and the blue glow falters, flickering weakly, before vanishing like a snuffed candle._

_I look around me, my heart pounding. From the trees, I hear a growl, deep and menacing. I feel a burst of surprise and confusion. These are not Mogadorians. I have heard many noises from them and from their beasts, but I have never heard this sound before._

_And then the eyes begin to appear. Lighting up, all around the edge of the clearing, one pair after another, glowing like flames as they materialize. Gold, blue and red, appearing as if from thin air. Another growl reverberates in my ears, suddenly swelling into a vicious snarl._

_An instant later, a pair of glowing red eyes suddenly leaps forward, and a huge dark shape slams into me, knocking me off my feet. I lash out with my mind, expecting to send the creature flying off me, but instead I feel like I've been punched in the gut and nothing happens. The creature rears back and howls, the sound earsplitting. I seem to hear the sound of mocking laughter merged with the howl. I desperately struggle, trying to throw off the creature, but somehow my abilities – my strength, my Legacies – have vanished. I am weakened, powerless, helpless._

_The creature's glowing red eyes fill my vision as it lets out a final triumphant snarl and lunges for my throat–_

"John!"

My eyes snap open and I shoot bolt upright, gasping for air. Sam, sitting in the driver's seat next to me, is staring at me with a worried expression on his face. "Dude, are you okay?"

I take several deep breaths, trying to free myself from the last vestiges of my terrifying dream. "Yeah… yeah, I'm okay."

Seated between us, Six turns towards me, her face concerned. "What was that?"

I shake my head. "No idea. I was dreaming about… something. I'm not even sure what it was. Can't really remember."

In my lap, Bernie Kosar lifts his head and glances up at me. I smile and scratch him behind his ears, the dark memory of my nightmare already fading away. I try to think back to the dream, but all I'm aware of is a shifting, swirling mass of darkness. Instead, I focus on something else to help me calm down, letting my memories flow past me, from my last day in Paradise until now.

After our battle against the Mogadorians at the high school in Paradise, Ohio, which ended in Henri's death and my leaving with Sam, Six and BK to search for the other Garde members and take the fight back to the Mogs, we had no idea where to go. Our first stop had been one of Six's safe houses, in a little town in Colorado, where we concealed ourselves for a few days while we finished healing up from our injuries and came up with a game plan. Six suggested that we head to a town in California where she believed another Garde member might be hiding. I'd agreed, although Sam was less than convinced, and off we went. It had taken us another four days to reach the town, during which time we set up a plan to remain concealed while trying to find the Garde.

Now that I'm awake and calm, Sam and Six return to the conversation they were having before I woke up, now in normal volume.

"Okay, Six, can we go over this again? How exactly do you know that another one of you guys is living here?"

"Because Katarina mentioned this place to me once. A long time ago, she told me that we had friends there, and that it might be a good place for us to meet up with the others when we were ready. So my guess is that if any other Garde members know that, they'll be making their way there to meet up with the rest of us. So the plan is simple; find the people who Katarina said are our friends, and to see if there's another Garde member here."

"Sounds good to me," Sam said. "So… that means we're going to be here for a while?"

"Yep," Six says. "We need to blend in, which means acting exactly like local teenagers. And that means going to school. Besides, if there is another Garde member hiding in this town, they'll be attending the school too. That should make it easier to identify them."

Six pulls out three sets of papers – applications for the local high school, unless I miss my guess. "Okay, John, your name is Carter Reynolds. I'm your sister, Angela Reynolds. And Sam, your name's Zachary Olsen; you're our cousin. We're from Phoenix, Arizona."

Sam grins. "Sounds good."

Six points to a sign up ahead of us on the right-hand side of the road. "Well, here we are."

I look up. The sign is obvious, a huge blue rectangle by the side of the road. Dominating it, in large red letters, are the words welcoming us to the town that is about to become our new home; **"Welcome To Beacon Hills."**


	3. Chapter 2: Enrollment

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lorien Legacies or Teen Wolf.**

**Chapter 2 - Enrollment**

.

_**John/Four**_

We pull Sam's truck up to the high school and hop out. Bernie Kosar isn't enthusiastic about staying behind, so I come up with a plan; he shifts quickly from his beagle form into a cockroach, and I slip him into the pocket of my hoodie before we go in. He'll be fine as long as he stays in my pocket, and he promises that he will. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I follow Sam and Six into the school.

We've already forged the necessary documents for enrollment, so all we need to do is go in, talk to the head of admissions, and we're good. Six leads the way into the room and walks straight up to the front desk. The woman at the desk looks up and smiles when she sees us. "Ah, these must be our new students. Welcome to Beacon Hills."

"Thanks," Six says, smiling faintly as she hands over the documents. The woman briefly looks them over and then places them into three folders that she has stacked on the desk. "Well, everything seems to be in order here. Here are your class schedules." She smiles, and hands us each a list of six classes that we'll be taking.

"Thank you very much," I say, taking the schedule with "Reynolds, C." marked on it. She smiles at me in response. Six hands Sam his, and then nods to the woman. "Well, we should probably get to class."

"Yes, you should," the woman replies warmly. "Have a good first day."

"We'll certainly try," I put in, smiling. The three of us quickly leave the office and briefly stop to compare class schedules.

"Okay, so Sam and I have chemistry next with… Mr. Harris," Six says, scanning the paper in her hand and then both of ours. "John, you've got Economics with Mr. Finstock."

"Sounds good. I'll see you guys at lunch." I turn and walk off down the hallway, checking my schedule to see what room my class is in. I walk around a corner, head down, and walk straight into someone going the other direction.

"Oh, sorry," I say, taking a quick step backwards. The girl I ran into looks up at me and grins. "Don't worry, it's okay. No harm done." She has shoulder-length, curly dark brown hair, brown eyes and is very beautiful, but there's something about her that, to my acute senses, almost seems… dangerous?

Never mind. I blink, and the "dangerous" feeling vanishes. I smile back at her. "Thanks. Hey, do you happen to know where Mr. Finstock's room is? I have class with him first period."

She smiles. "Well, you're lucky, because so do I. So yeah, I can take you there. Follow me."

I nod and follow her down the hallway.

"So, I'm guessing you're new here?" she asks.

"Yeah, I just moved here. This is my first day."

"Ah, got it. Yeah, that was me a couple of months ago. I moved here fairly recently from Ohio. I'm Allison, by the way."

I'm so thrown by the fact that she's from Ohio that I almost say _John_, but I remember just in time and quickly say, "Carter. Nice to meet you."

She grins again and shakes my hand. "Nice to meet you too. Now we'd better hurry up, or we're going to be late."

I follow her quickly down the hallway and into a classroom just before the bell rings. A man in his thirties is standing by the chalkboard, glaring occasionally around the room for no reason that I can detect. Allison smiles at me again. "I'll talk to you at lunch. Nice meeting you." She walks over and sits down next to two boys – one with short brown hair and the other with longer, tousled dark hair. Both of them turn and smile at her, quickly starting a conversation. I glance around the room briefly, looking for a place to sit. There are only a few empty seats, so I casually slip into one as close to the front as possible, just in case I have to make a quick exit from the room when the bell rings.

Mr. Finstock turns to face me, and his face briefly looks confused. "Now, I don't remember _you_. Um… who are you?"

"I'm Carter, sir. Carter Reynolds," I say.

Mr. Finstock looks closer at me. "And you're in my class… why, exactly?"

"I just moved here, so this is my first day," I say, handing him my list of classes. He scans the sheet briefly, then hands the paper back to me.

"Okay, got it. Ah… good to have you." He starts to walk away, then turns around again. "You don't happen to play lacrosse by any chance, do you, Reynolds?"

"Uh, no, sir. I've never played lacrosse. Or any sport, really. I sometimes get really bad asthma attacks."

"Ah, got it. Well, if you ever do want to try it out, you know where to find me. I'm coach of the lacrosse team, and we can always use new players. And we've already got one great player with asthma – McCall, over there – although he hasn't had any problems with that for the last couple of months." Finstock indicates the boy with the longer brown hair, the one currently sitting next to Allison. I glance over at him, and our eyes lock for a moment, as he looks straight back at me. The abrupt "stare-down" lasts for about five seconds, until we both abruptly look away. I glance around the classroom, suddenly feeling slightly dizzy.

What was _that_?

It takes me a moment to realize Finstock is still talking to me. "Hey, Reynolds, are you okay?"

I shake my head to clear it, then look up at him. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Sorry."

He nods briskly. "Well, all right, then. Ah… good talking to you, Reynolds."

Finstock walks away, and I'm able to sneak another glance over at Allison and the boy sitting next to her – McCall, Finstock had said. He looks totally harmless, but for some reason just looking at him gives me a feeling like there's ice cubes in my stomach. I can hardly wait to get out of the classroom.

As I walk out into the hallway at the end of the period, I hear Allison call "Carter!" I turn around, and she's standing behind me, smiling, with McCall and the other guy in tow. Neither of them are grinning.

"Just thought we should show you around the school," Allison says. She indicates the two guys with her hand. "This is Scott, and this is Stiles. Guys, this is Carter. He just moved here."

I shake hands with each of them. When I shake the hand of the shorter kid, the one she called Stiles, it feels totally normal, but when I shake hands with McCall – Scott – it feels like I just grabbed an ice pack. My entire hand goes numb almost instantly. I shake his hand quickly and then lower mine, hurriedly checking to make sure it's not actually frozen. I notice that Scott actually recoils about as much as I do, so maybe it feels the same to him.

All the same, he smiles in a friendly way. "Nice to meet you."

"You too." I nod politely, and then glance around the hallway, looking for Six or Sam. Neither of them is in sight, so I look back down at my schedule. "Uh… I have Mr. Harris next. Where's his room?"

The shorter guy, Stiles, actually winces. "Yikes. Sorry about that, man."

"Sorry about what?" I ask, momentarily confused.

"Harris sucks. Take it from me, the guy's an ass." He glances around, then sighs. "Unfortunately, we've all got his class next too. So come on, let's go."

I nod, then follow the three of them down the hallway. Allison seems to be the most welcoming of the three, asking me lots of questions about where I'm from, where I went to school before I moved here, what activities I like. It's when we get to the activities part that I notice Scott seems more interested.

"I overheard Coach talking to you about lacrosse," he says. "It's cool, you should join if you're interested in that sort of thing."

"Scott and Stiles are both on the team," Allison puts in. "Scott's the co-captain."

"Well, I'm not usually into sports, but I guess I could give it a shot sometime," I reply, immediately cursing myself. Whenever I'm in a high school, I always avoid sports, because my superhuman strength, speed and agility – all part of being a Loric Garde member – could give away my secret. But, for some reason, I have the urge to try it, just this once. I mean, this could be a great way for me to practice my skills, especially considering that it's lacrosse, one of the few sports where you actually use tools. Admittedly, sticks with nets on them isn't exactly up to standard as far as weapons training goes, but Six has told me that she used a wooden kendo staff a lot while she was training to control her skills, and that's fairly similar to a lacrosse stick.

"Cool," Scott says. "We can probably talk to Coach about it tomorrow and set up a tryout, if you want."

I fight off the doubts and force a smile. "Sounds good."

By this time, we've arrived at our next class. We walk in and find empty seats. I end up next to a girl with shoulder-length, curly blonde hair and a gray sweatshirt who reminds me a lot of Six, while Scott and Stiles sit together, and Allison ends up next to a muscular guy with short black hair, who she addresses as Danny. I turn to face the front of the classroom and see a thin, severe-looking man – Mr. Harris, I presume – stand up from his desk and walk up to the front of the classroom.

"Now, then, let's begin. First of all, Mr. Stilinski," he looks over at Stiles, who is still talking to Scott, "class has begun, so there will be no talking allowed unless I ask you a question. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly clear," Stiles replies, making a sour face as soon as Harris looks away.

"If that happens again, Mr. Stilinski, you will find yourself rounding out your day in detention. Now, I understand that we have a new student in this class today?"

"Yes, that's me, sir," I say, raising my hand. "Carter Reynolds."

"Yes, thank you very much, Mr. Reynolds. Do wait until called upon next time. Anyway, welcome." Harris – I'm already disliking this guy – turns away and starts scribbling down an equation on the blackboard. "Please turn to page two hundred and ninety-seven in your chemistry books."

I open my book and then glance over to see the girl next to me looking through her backpack with increasing desperation – clearly, she's forgotten her book. I slide my book partially towards her, so it's between us. She glances up, sees it, and looks shyly up at me through her hair. "Thank you," she whispers.

"You're welcome," I say, smiling softly, and quickly turn the book to page two hundred and ninety-seven. "My name's Carter, by the way. What's yours?"

"Erica," she says, a faint smile flickering across her face. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too."

After the class is over, I shake Erica's hand, we exchange smiles again, and she heads off to her locker. I walk to the cafeteria with Allison, Scott and Stiles, listening to various stories about recent events that have taken place around here. Apparently, there have been about half a dozen murders committed in Beacon Hills during the last few weeks, leading up to one that occurred last Friday, the day of this school's Winter Formal dance. This intrigues me, but I don't have time to hear more about it. We get to the cafeteria, where I see Sam and Six looking for me. We walk up to them, and I tap Six on the shoulder. She turns around and smiles when she sees me.

"How's your morning going?" I ask. She shrugs.

"It could've been worse. Harris's class sucked."

"No kidding. I was just there."

Six notices the other three standing behind me. "You made some friends already?" she asks, grinning. I turn around, somewhat sheepishly, and nod. "Yeah. Forgot to introduce you, sorry. Angela, these are Allison, Scott and Stiles. Guys, this is my sister Angela and my cousin Zach."

Six and Sam shake hands with the other three kids. To my surprise, Six also twitches noticeably when she shakes Scott's hand. So that wasn't just me. Interesting…

After the introductions are complete, we all sit down at one of the tables and begin chatting while we eat our lunches. Stiles seems very distracted, constantly checking his phone even though he hasn't gotten any calls or texts the entire day; it's unusual enough that Sam actually asks about it.

"Hey, man, are you all right?"

Stiles turns when he hears Sam's voice. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine."

Scott puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "Look, if anything happens with Lydia, we'll know. My mom promised to call if anything happened, anything at all. So, for right now, there's nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, well, I'm still going back over to the hospital tonight. I want to make sure I'm there when she feels well enough to leave."

"Um… sorry, who's Lydia?" Six asks.

"And why is she in a hospital?" Sam puts in.

Allison turns to face her. "She's one of our close friends… well, probably my best friend, if you don't count these two." She affectionately nudges Scott and Stiles. "Anyway, last week, the night of the winter formal… something attacked her. They're still not sure what it was. Some kind of animal, definitely, but no one knows anything about it." Her voice is soft and faltering at this point, and she exchanges looks with Scott and Stiles. "Fortunately, she survived, but she was badly injured. She's still in the hospital, but she's almost fully recovered and she should be ready to go home in a day or two."

"Well, I hope she's feeling better soon," I say, hoping to break the tension that suddenly seems to have formed.

Allison nods and smiles. "Thanks."

The bell for next period abruptly rings, and everyone starts leaving the cafeteria. Allison stands up, followed by Scott and Stiles. "Okay, we should probably go. See you guys later!" She smiles again, and the three of them walk out of the cafeteria.

I immediately turn to Six and lean close to her. "When you shook his hand," I whisper into her ear. "Did you feel that?"

She nods. "Yeah, I did. His hand felt like it was made out of ice. I swear my entire hand went numb. And every time I locked eyes with him, it felt like–"

"Like there was ice in your stomach," I finish.

She stares at me, her eyes wide.

Sam looks back and forth between the two of us, uncomprehending. "Guys? What's going on?"

I look straight into Six's eyes. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

She nods. "Whatever he is, I don't think he's human."

"Which means…"

She nods again. "Which means we might have just found our Garde."

**Five**

I'm watching them from the other side of the cafeteria, casually seated alone at a table in the corner. My extremely acute hearing can pick up most of what they're saying, although some of it is obscured.

But I can hear enough.

At the word _Garde_, I feel my entire body freeze. My head snaps up, staring directly at them. Those three kids, two boys and one girl, know about the Garde. They know about the Loric nine that are hiding here on Earth.

And they may know who I am.

I only recognize one of them, but it's not a face I ever expected to see here, in Beacon Hills. I might not have believed it, but I can't possibly deny it, because there's no way I could forget it.

John Smith.

Number Four.

I knew who he was the second I saw him walk into class. I'd know that face anywhere – the tousled blonde hair, the piercing blue eyes… exactly matching those pictures I'd seen online. The other two, I don't know, but I'm guessing that they're either other surviving Garde members, or human allies who are helping John to conceal himself. Frankly, I'm amazed he managed to enroll in the school without being discovered and arrested on the spot. It's immediately obvious that the kid has no sense whatsoever of the term _disguise_. He's probably never changed his appearance once, just his name. Well, that works most of the time, but not when you're a national fugitive wanted for terrorism. If anyone figures out who he is, he's screwed; he'll have to run again, and then I'll never find him. I need to keep all pictures of him away from anywhere that might lead to the government getting their hands on them, and I need to decide when to make contact with him. Because there's no way I can do that here, not without causing serious problems.

No… I'll tell him once I've figured out how to do it without causing any problems.

And once I'm sure I'm ready to leave Beacon Hills.

Because once I take that step, once I confront Number Four and enter this war against the Mogadorians, there's no going back. But it's not like I have a choice. I'm Number Five, I'm one of only six surviving Garde members, and I'm meant to do this.

It's finally begun.

Game on.

**AN: For those of you who really want to know Number Five's identity (which I imagine is everyone), don't worry; he or she will be fully introduced eventually. At some point, I promise, everyone will know who Five really is. Just don't expect that to be anytime soon.**

**Also, I hope you liked my cameo for Erica; I wanted to have a friendship between her and John before she became a werewolf, so I tried to portray Erica as the kind of person we see in the couple of scenes she's in before she receives the bite from Derek; very shy and self-conscious, mostly unable to reach out to others. The question is, how will her friendship with John change the way she behaves after the bite? Stay tuned!**

**Just so everyone knows, this chapter takes place the day before Season 2, Episode 1 of **_**Teen Wolf**_** begins. The next chapter will start at the beginning of Episode 1, "Omega", and will be narrated by several **_**Teen Wolf**_** characters as well as John.**

**Also, if you have any questions or comments regarding the story, please feel free to review. (No hate, please.) See you next time!**


	4. Chapter 3: Omega, Part 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lorien Legacies or Teen Wolf.**

**Chapter 3 – **_**Omega**_**, Part 1**

.

_**Jackson Whittemore**_

The cold water of the stream feels refreshing against my skin. I surface, gasping for breath, and wade slowly ashore, climbing out onto a large rock beside the stream. I glance around, making sure no one is present. I look down, brushing aside my torn shirt, and smile faintly as I see the two semicircular puncture wounds on my side.

_It's about damn time._

The bite still hurts, but it stopped bleeding shortly after I received it, and the pain has faded until it's just an ache. The cold water definitely helped; that was part of the reason why I decided to go swimming. Anyway, my feeling of triumph is strong enough that I'm able to ignore it. Finally, I have what I've wanted ever since I found out McCall's secret. And, despite the pain in my side, I've never felt better in my life.

I look away from the injury and glance up at the sky, where I see the moon shining high above me. My eyes lock on it as I feel an unmistakable thrill of victory.

I smile to myself.

I am a werewolf.

And I've never been happier.

.

_**Scott McCall**_

I'm running through the forest, bounding through the trees as fast as my arms and legs can take me. The night would be too dark to see clearly for most people, but I can see every detail of the forest around me.

Hurtling through the night, I realize that there's a ravine coming up ahead. I speed up, reaching the edge in a matter of seconds, and then hurl myself into the open air in an enormous leap. I seem to hang suspended in midair for a few seconds, and then I fall, dropping in a graceful arc until I land, hard, on the rocky wall on the other side of the ravine. I pause briefly to catch my breath, my mind involuntarily flashing back to what happened that fateful day; last Sunday, less than two days after the night of the Winter Formal, and the first time I'd seen Allison since that night;

_Allison and I are in my car, parked in the preserve, just off the main road. I'm sitting in the driver's seat, and she's now on my lap, my lips pressing against hers._

_It's wonderful, the most perfect thing I've ever felt; nothing compares with the feeling of kissing Allison, the feeling of her lips against mine. Allison. The name seems to fill my head, driving every other thought away. I don't think about Stiles, Derek, Peter, Lydia, or anything else that's been occupying my mind ever since that night, two days ago. There is just me, and Allison, and nothing else. And it's never felt more right. More perfect. Because she knows everything now. There are no secrets between us. She knows what I am, knows that I am a werewolf, and she still accepts me. Still loves me. That's all I could ever have hoped for._

_This is one of the best moments of my life._

_Of course, that's when everything goes straight to hell._

_Just as I'm leaning back against the door, the window shatters, and an arm hooks around my neck and yanks me backwards through the broken window. I am whirled around and slammed down on the hood of the car, and my eyes widen in shock when I see Allison's father, Chris Argent, holding a pistol about half an inch away from my face._

_"No! Dad, stop!" Allison jumps out of the car and hurls herself at her father, grabbing at his arm, trying to pull the gun away from me, but he doesn't budge. "Dad, please! He saved our lives, _your_ life! Don't you remember that?! Please, let him go!"_

_Chris still doesn't move, his face as hard as granite, the pistol still centered on my face. I'm still frozen, in shock, unable to move so much as a finger, because I know if I try to do anything right now he's going to pull the trigger._

_"Dad, please, don't do this! I'll do anything, okay?! Anything! I'll – I'll never see him again, I promise! Just please, _please_, don't do this!"_

_Finally, Chris seems to listen. He releases me and steps back, lowering his pistol as I slump to the ground. "Never again," he says. Then he turns his back on us and walks away without another word._

_Allison drops to her knees beside me and throws her arms around me. She buries her face in my chest, her sobs muffled by my shirt. I hold her in my arms and try to comfort her, but I know nothing I can say will make it better._

_So I just hold her. And she holds me, so tight it's clear she never wants to let go._

I snap out of the memory and glance around again. My thoughts are shifting into a different direction now; I'm thinking about that guy Carter, who Allison introduced us to at school. On the surface, he seemed totally normal; polite, easygoing, relaxed (if a bit tense). But every time I'd looked at him, I'd felt something searing hot, _painfully_ hot, deep in my stomach, like I'd just swallowed a burning coal. And when I'd shaken his hand, and later his sister's… it had felt like I'd touched an open flame. It hadn't actually been painful, but my entire hand had felt a searing burst of heat, and then I'd gotten the same "pins and needles" feeling that I got sometimes when my foot fell asleep, but in my entire arm up to the elbow.

Whatever that was, I'd gotten the same feeling from both of them, although from the third one, Zach, I hadn't felt anything unusual. So it was just the brother and sister, Carter and Angela, who were out of the ordinary. But I'd managed to get a good whiff of their scent while I'd been near them; Carter's in the hall while we were walking to Harris' class, and Angela's in the cafeteria while the six of us were eating lunch. They definitely weren't werewolves; I'd know that scent anywhere. But they didn't smell like normal humans, either. There was something unusual about their scents; something I've never smelled before, but that was distinctly not human. But I have no idea what it could be.

Ah, well. Maybe I can set up a way for Derek to get near enough to one of them that he'll be able to tell me what they are.

Anyway, right now I have other things to think about.

For instance, I'm going to be late unless I get a move on.

I launch myself into the trees again, racing at top speed, even faster than before, exiting the trees and sprinting down the street. Before I know it, I'm there.

It only takes me a few seconds to get from the ground to the roof of the house; I've got it down to a science now, since I've already done it twice this week. I take one quick hop off the roof, and launch myself through the open window.

Allison's waiting, of course. I grin at her. "How much time do we have?"

"They'll be gone for an hour," she says, grinning. I smile back, and step forward, slipping my arms around her and pressing my lips against hers.

A few minutes later, a distinctive sound hits my ears; the sound of a car engine, then brakes. I freeze and sit bolt upright. Allison sits up as well.

"What?"

"Do the right-side brakes on your dad's car squeak a little bit?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Then we're dead," I say.

She curses.

.

Standing outside on the roof of Allison's house, I can still hear the conversation between her and her mom inside. Which is good, because it gives me enough time to get out of sight before her mom looks out of the window.

However, the fact that I'm standing outside, on a roof, in the middle of the night, _in just my underwear?_ Yeah, that's a problem. Because although I did remember to get my clothes before I left the room (thank god), I'm not wearing most of them. And it's _really cold_ out here.

Yikes.

A few seconds later, I suddenly hear a noise. It's faint, definitely coming from a long way away, but I can hear it well enough to tell what it is.

A scream. An instantly recognizable scream.

I freeze. "Lydia?"

.

After I manage to get off the roof and put my clothes back on, I'm running towards the hospital, when my phone goes off.

I look at the caller ID. _Stiles._ I slow to a fast walk and answer it.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Scott, I need you to get to the hospital right now. _Right now_. Got it?"

"Yeah, I'm already on my way. What happened to Lydia?" I ask.

"She's – wait, how the hell did you know something happened to her?"

"I heard a scream, coming from a long way away; it sounded like her voice. Long story. So what happened?"

"She's gone."

"Gone? What do you mean, _gone?!_"

"I mean _gone_, genius! She was taking a shower, I was out in the hallway getting a snack from the vending machine, and I heard her screaming. I ran in with your mom and her dad, but she was gone, and the window was open."

I slow down, then stop, a sharp pain forming in my head. "So you think…"

"Yeah, I do. I definitely hope not, but that has to be it."

I shake my head. "So you think she turned after all."

"It makes sense. Trust me, I'm not a fan of the idea, but it does make sense. And if she did, we need to find her before the Argents do."

"I'm on my way." I hang up, put the phone in my pocket, and then start running. After about a hundred yards, I switch from two legs to four, and speed up, racing down the street. Fortunately, it's pretty late, so not many people are out, and I'm able to avoid being seen on my way to the hospital.

.

A few minutes later, I'm waiting in Stiles' Jeep, in the hospital parking lot. He walks out carrying a bloodstained hospital gown; the one Lydia was wearing. He hops into the Jeep and hands it to me.

"This is the one that she was just wearing?" I ask. He nods, and I can see the note of worry in his eyes. I lock eyes with him reassuringly. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt her. Not again."

"All right, just shove the thing in your face and let's find her."

Stiles starts the Jeep and turns on the headlights – revealing Allison, who's standing directly in front of the car. Stiles jumps, letting out a surprised "Wow!"

Allison hurries over to the window on my side. I lean towards her. "What're you doing here? Someone's going to see us."

"I don't care," she replies. "She's my best friend, and we need to find her before they do."

"I can find her before the cops can."

"How about before my father does?"

"He knows?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs."

I turn to look at Stiles. "Search party," I say worriedly.

"More like a hunting party," Allison says.

I turn back to her. My mind's made up; we're not leaving her out of this. "Get in." I open the door, she hops in between us, and Stiles drives out of the parking lot.

"All right, but if she's turning, will they actually kill her?" Stiles asks Allison.

"I don't know, they won't tell me anything, okay?" she replies. "All they've said is that we'll talk after Kate's funeral, when 'the others' get here."

"What others?"

"I don't know, they won't tell me that, either."

"Okay, your family's got some serious communication issues to work on." He turns to focus on me. "Scott, are we going the right way?" he yells.

I'm hanging partially out of the passenger's-side window, inhaling deeply to trace Lydia's scent. I catch a faint whiff of it, unmistakable. "Take the next right!" I yell.

The Jeep turns rapidly, and we're off again.

.

_**Isaac Lahey**_

I'm in the cemetery, working late. My father assigned me the job of finishing the work on this grave for Kate Argent's funeral tomorrow, so I get to stay out and run the backhoe in the middle of the night.

_Just freaking perfect_, I think sourly. I pause briefly and lean forward, checking my black eye in the rearview mirror. I touch it gently with my fingertips, and then turn back to the controls.

Suddenly, I hear an odd sound, like the snap of a branch or leaves crunching under someone's foot. I lean forward, scanning the graveyard quickly, but I don't see anything. I shift the backhoe, rotating it to give me a better view. I hear another crunch of leaves, coming from a different direction. I adjust a lever, rotating the backhoe the other direction, but again, nothing's there.

I turn the backhoe again, doing a full 180-degree pan of the area in front of the backhoe, and this time I see something; a hand, curling around the edge of a gravestone. But something seems wrong with it; the nails are extremely long and pointed, almost like claws. "What the hell?" I mutter, leaning forward to get a better view. But almost as soon as I see it, the hand withdraws behind the gravestone and disappears again.

As I crane my neck, trying to catch a glimpse of it, I see a sudden flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. I turn just in time to see a blur as something charges straight at me. I jump back, and something slams into the backhoe, lifting it and toppling it over onto its side. I'm thrown out of it and down into the newly dug grave, landing with a thud on the dirt floor just before the backhoe slams down, mostly covering the entrance and raining down shattered glass on me.

I scrabble backwards against the wall and look up, just in time to see a dark shape leap onto the backhoe and then vanish from my line of sight in another jump. I shrink back, trying to hide, and hear a bizarre growling sound coming from outside, along with what sounds like digging. I cautiously stand up and lift myself up, glancing over the edge of the grave. All I can see is the back of a vaguely humanoid figure burrowing frantically into one of the recently dug graves a few yards away, throwing up a shower of dirt in the process.

I immediately flinch back, dropping back to the floor in an attempt to conceal myself. Suddenly, a loud roar interrupts the previous growling, and the growling abruptly vanishes. I glance up, fear encouraging me to look, but I can't see anything.

Then, impossibly, the backhoe begins to rise, lifting up off the ground and back to its upright position. I scramble towards the side of the grave, tucking myself into a corner, desperately trying to remain hidden. The backhoe thuds back onto its treads, and there's silence for a moment. Then I hear footsteps, walking around the backhoe towards me. I look up, terror filling me for a moment, until I see the person who was walking; a young man, probably only a few years older than me, in a black leather jacket and black pants. I slump to the ground in relief, as he looks down at me and smiles.

"Need a hand?"

.

_**Scott**_

Of all the places Lydia could have gone to, this one is probably the one I'd least expect.

The Hale house. Former residence of Derek and the rest of his family, and now a burnt-out ruin.

But my nose doesn't lie; this is where Lydia's trail leads.

Stiles turns to me as the three of us approach the house. "She came _here_? You're sure?"

I nod. "This is where the scent leads."

He turns back to face the house. "All right, but has Lydia ever been here?"

"Not with me," Allison says. Stiles nods, shrugs, and continues walking towards the house.

"Maybe she came here on instinct, like she was looking for Derek," Allison says.

"You mean looking for an Alpha," I reply.

"Well, wolves need a pack, right?" she asks.

"Not all of them."

"But would she have been drawn to an Alpha? Is it an instinct to be part of the pack?"

I nod. "Yeah, we're stronger in packs."

"Like strength in numbers."

"No, no, I mean like, _literally_ stronger… faster… better in every way."

"Is it the same for an Alpha?" she asks.

I nod again. "Yeah. It'll make Derek stronger too."

Stiles is examining something on the ground. "Hey, guys, look at this." Allison walks over to him as he fiddles with a line attached to one of the trees. "I think it's a tripwire." He pulls on it, and instantly something whips around my ankle and I'm yanked into the air, upside down.

"Stiles?"

"Yeah, buddy?" He and Allison turn around, looks of surprise appearing on their faces when they see me.

"Next time you see a tripwire… don't trip it."

"Noted," he says.

They start towards me, but I hear something and quickly turn to them. "Someone's coming. Hide. _Go!_"

They walk quickly away, hiding behind a tree, and leaving me dangling in the middle of the clearing. Within seconds, three men enter the clearing. Chris Argent is in the lead. Hunters. Chris kneels in front of me, so we're at eye level.

"Scott."

"Mr. Argent," I reply.

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"Oh, you know. Just… hanging around." I indicate the tripwire with one hand. "Is this one of yours? It's good. Very… constricting."

Chris's face turns serious. "What're you doing out here, Scott?"

Time to stop joking. "Looking for my friend," I say.

He nods. "Ah, yes, that's right. Lydia's in your group now, isn't she? Part of your clique? Is that how you say it nowadays? Or is there another term… part of your _pack_?"

"No, clique sounds about right to me," I counter.

"Well, I hope so. Because I know she's a friend of Allison's, and one special circumstance such as yourself, I can deal with. Not two."

He appears to be thinking about something for a moment, and then his eyes refocus on mine. "Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?"

"No, and I have a feeling I don't want to."

"A medical term for amputating somebody at the waist," he continues. "Cutting them in half." He reaches up and runs a finger sideways in a line across my stomach. "Takes a lot of force to cut through tissue and bone like that." His eyes harden. "Let's hope a demonstration never becomes necessary."

Chris stands up, turns and walks away. The other two hunters follow him, leaving me hanging upside-down from the tripwire. As soon as they're gone, Stiles and Allison emerge from their hiding place and hurry over to me.

"Are you okay?" Allison asks.

I grin up at her. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just another life-threatening conversation with your dad."

She smiles faintly, turns and goes to inspect the mechanism controlling the tripwire. "Here, Stiles, help me with this." He nods and goes to help her. I consider for a moment, then decide that I'd rather not be dropped on my head when they disengage the tripwire.

Instead, I extend my claws. One quick movement, and the wire snaps. I flip in midair, landing lightly on my feet and smiling at Allison and Stiles as they turn to face me with surprised looks on their faces. "Thanks, but I think I got it."

"Okay," Stiles says. Allison laughs briefly.

I turn and start walking back towards the house, smiling, then turn back to face them, jerking my head towards the house. "Coming?"

.

**AN: And that's it for this chapter. Don't worry, we'll get back to John in the next chapter, as well as continuing with Isaac and Scott. And remember, please review if you have any questions or comments! (No hate, please). See you next time!**

**Review Q&A for last chapter:**

**Q: Is Five an OC?**

**A: No, Five is not an OC; Five's human identity is a character that has actually appeared on **_**Teen Wolf**_**. Which character that is, however, remains to be seen…**


	5. Chapter 4: Omega, Part 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lorien Legacies or Teen Wolf.**

**Chapter 4 – **_**Omega**_**, Part 2**

.

_**Isaac**_

"It's, uh, Lahey. Isaac Lahey."

I'm in the cemetery again, being interviewed by Sheriff Stilinski about the incident last night. My father's standing next to me, although I try not to look at him.

"You work for your father, Isaac?" Sheriff Stilinski asks.

"When he's not in school," my father says. "Which is where he needs to be in twenty minutes."

"Yeah, I understand that," the Sheriff replies. "But I've got a missing teenage girl, and our K9 unit led us here. She's not wearing any clothes, and if she's out here tonight, and the temperature really drops–"

"I'm sorry, I didn't see anything," I interrupt.

My father chuckles. "Trust me, if he saw a naked girl outside a computer screen, he'd remember." I try to ignore him, but it's not easy.

Sheriff Stilinski glances between the two of us several times. Finally, he says, "How'd you get that black eye, Isaac?"

My father glances at me. I subconsciously flinch, remembering how the black eye was actually inflicted, but I know I can't tell the Sheriff what really happened, so I come up with a basic excuse. "School."

"School fight?" he asks.

"No," I say. "Lacrosse."

"Lacrosse?" he asks, smiling. "You play for Beacon Hills?"

I nod.

"My son plays for the team… well, I mean, he's _on_ the team, he doesn't technically _play_… not yet, anyway."

I've stopped paying attention, because I've just noticed something else; the young man who helped me last night, Derek, is standing in the trees behind the Sheriff, looking directly at me. Our eyes lock for a few seconds, and I swear I feel an odd sensation, like an electric charge, run down the length of my spine.

"It's, uh…" Sheriff Stilinski stops talking, realizing that I'm not looking at him anymore. He glances back towards the trees, and I follow his gaze after looking back at him briefly, but Derek is gone. The Sheriff turns back to me, a puzzled expression on his face. "Something wrong, Isaac?"

I shake my head to clear my thoughts, thinking quickly. "Uh, no, sorry. I just remembered I have a morning practice to get to."

He nods understandingly. "Okay, just one more question." He turns, gesturing to the newly dug-up grave beside us. "Do you get many grave robberies here?"

"A few," I reply. "Usually, they just take stuff like jewelry."

"What'd this one take?" he asks.

I look down into the grave briefly, then back up to face him. "A liver."

.

_**Scott**_

Stiles and I are walking into school, deep in conversation.

"So she ate the liver?" I ask.

"No, she didn't eat it, they just said it was missing," Stiles replies. "And, you know what, so what if she did? It's the most nutritious part of the body."

"I never ate anyone's liver," I say.

"Yeah, because when it comes to werewolves, you're a real model of self-control," Stiles retorts. Suddenly, he stops dead in his tracks and turns to face me. "Actually, wait, hold on. You're the test case for this, so we should be going over what happened to you."

"Okay, what do you mean?"

"Well, what was going through your mind when you were turning? What were you drawn to?"

I consider for a moment. "Allison."

He stares at me exasperatedly. "Seriously, _nothing_ else?"

I shrug. "Nothing else mattered." Then something occurs to me. "But, wait – that's _good_, right? Because the night Lydia got bit, she was with you!"

Stiles sighs. "Yeah, but she was looking for… Jackson," he grumbles, gesturing towards the parking lot. I turn just in time to see Jackson's Porsche pull into the lot. Jackson parks and climbs out, wearing a scarf around his neck for some odd reason. He starts towards the school buildings, passing a homeless guy with long brown hair digging through a trash can.

"Nice car," the homeless guy says. Jackson glances back at him, then takes a dollar out of his wallet and hands it to the guy.

"Here's a dollar; go find another parking lot to die in," he says dismissively, turning around and walking away. "Security!" he yells, indicating the homeless guy as he walks towards the building.

"Hey, guys," I say, noticing Carter, Angela and Zachary walking up the front steps.

"Who's that?" Carter asks, indicating Jackson. "Haven't seen him before."

Stiles snorts. "Jackson Whittemore, the other co-captain of the lacrosse team and one of the biggest assholes you will ever be unfortunate enough to meet."

"Sounds like a fun guy," Angela comments sarcastically.

"Yep," Stiles says. "No kidding."

I turn, glaring once at Jackson, and walk into the building with Stiles and the others.

.

_**John/Four**_

"So, Carter, Stiles and I have lacrosse next. You should come with us this morning so you can talk to Coach about joining the team," Scott says.

I nod, smiling. "Thanks." I turn back to Six and Sam. "I'll see you guys later, okay?"

Six smiles. "Sounds good," she says. "Now go have some fun."

I grin faintly. "Will do."

Turning, I follow Scott and Stiles down several hallways and into the men's locker room, entering just as Coach Finstock yells, "All right, everybody, listen up! I have an announcement! Gather around! Quicker!" He glances at one of the students. "Danny, put your shirt on!"

I slip in behind Scott and Stiles, pretty sure that I'm not supposed to be here, but Finstock doesn't even notice me. "Okay, everybody gather up!" He holds up a flyer. "The police are asking for help on a missing child advisory. It's a sick girl; roaming around, totally naked." A few of the guys in the locker room chuckle. "Now, it's supposed to get down below forty degrees tonight, and I don't know about you, but the last time I was running around naked and it was that cold, I lost a testicle to exposure! And I don't want the same thing happening to some innocent girl!" He sticks the flyer onto the wall. "So the police are organizing search parties. Sign up, find the missing girl, and you get an automatic A in my class." Some of the players cheer, and Finstock steps back, handing a pen to the first guy to approach the flyer so he can sign it.

I look around for Scott and Stiles, who seem to have disappeared; I see them again a moment later, standing in the back of the room with that other guy, Jackson. I walk closer, leaning against the lockers just around the corner as I try to hear what they're saying.

"…if Lydia wants to take a naked hike in the woods, why should I care?" Jackson asks. Wait… _Lydia?_ As in Allison, Scott and Stiles' injured friend who was attacked by some kind of animal at the winter formal dance?

"Because we have a pretty good idea that she might be… you know… turning," Scott says.

I frown. _Turning?_ What the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?

Jackson doesn't seem to understand it any more than I do. "Turning?"

"Yeah," Scott says. "Turning."

"Into…?" Jackson trails off, still looking confused.

Stiles sighs. "A unicorn; what do you think, dumbass?"

Jackson smiles faintly. "Well, I think that if Lydia's _turning_, she's not the one that's going to need help."

I edge slightly closer, straining to hear them. I still have no idea what they're talking about, but it's clearly related to Lydia, the missing girl.

"What do you mean?" Scott asks.

"Oh, god, you've got it all backwards, McCall," Jackson says, sounding exasperated. "When I was with Lydia, you should have seen the scratch marks she left on me. What do you think she's going to do with a set of real claws?" He grins and walks away, leaving Scott and Stiles looking at each other with troubled expressions on their faces. As for me, I'm left standing there with no idea what I just heard.

_What in the hell was that about? Turning? Real claws? What does that even mean?_

I'm about to see if I can talk to Jackson about what I just heard – he clearly knew what they were talking about, even if he responded sarcastically – when Stiles notices me. "Hey, Carter, you wanted to talk to Coach about joining, right?"

I turn to face him, nodding as I try not to act suspicious. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Yeah, let's go talk to him."

I follow Scott and Stiles up to where Finstock is watching the students signing up for the search party. He turns with an irritated look on his face. "What is it, McCall?"

I step forward. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Mr. Finstock. Scott and Stiles showed me where to go."

Finstock nods. "Okay, Reynolds; what did you want to ask me?"

"Well, sir, I decided that I'd like to try out for the lacrosse team. So, if you've got a spot open on the team, would I be able to try out?"

Finstock grins at me. "Well, yeah, of course, Reynolds. One thing we can never have enough of around here is some good lacrosse players. How does tomorrow work for a tryout?"

I nod and smile, fighting off my misgivings. "Sounds great, Mr. Finstock."

"Okay, I'll see you on the lacrosse field tomorrow when the team practices; you can try out then. Give me your shirt and pants size in Econ class today so I'll know what practice gear to give you." He turns away, then turns back. "And, Reynolds?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Call me Coach."

I smile, shake his hand, and follow Scott and Stiles out of the locker room.

.

Harris' chemistry class is every bit as boring as it was the previous day. I end up sitting next to Erica, the blonde girl, again; she remembered her book this time, so we don't have to share one, but she still smiles shyly at me when I sit down next to her. As Harris passes out papers, I try to eavesdrop on Scott and Stiles again.

"Okay, it's causing me severe mental anguish to say this, but he's right," Stiles says quietly, indicating Jackson.

"I know," Scott replies.

Stiles leans forward, lowering his voice to a hiss. I can't hear exactly what he says, but a moment later Harris' voice rings out as he notices them talking. "This is a pop quiz, Mr. Stilinski. If I hear your voice again, I will be tempted to give you detention for the rest of your high school career."

Now, I would've instantly shut up after hearing that threat directed at me. Most people would've done the same thing. The _smart_ thing. But, as I've already come to realize, Stiles Stilinski is not most people. "Can you do that?" he asks.

"There it is again," Harris says immediately. "Your voice. Triggering the only impulse I've ever had to strike a student, repeatedly, and violently…" At this, Jackson and the guy sitting next to him – Danny, the guy Allison was sitting next to yesterday – both chuckle. "I'll see you at three for detention," Harris finishes.

Stiles is frozen, dumbstruck, with his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Scott glances back at him, but Harris interrupts. "You too, Mr. McCall?"

"No, sir," Scott says. Harris nods, satisfied, and everyone turns back to their quizzes.

I'm focusing on one particularly irritating problem, when I hear a whisper from behind me, "Dude… your nose." I glance back, to see Danny looking at Jackson, who appears to have suddenly developed a severe nosebleed that is dripping onto his quiz paper. "You okay?" Danny asks as Jackson touches his nose; his fingers come away smeared black with blood. He looks at his bloody fingers, horrified.

Instantly, Jackson turns to face the front of the room and holds up one hand. "Mr. Harris, I need to use the bathroom."

Harris glances up and sees Jackson's nosebleed; immediately, the severe expression on his face fades somewhat, and he straightens up, focusing on Jackson. "Of course, Jackson. Pass is right over there."

Jackson scrambles to his feet, staggers to the front of the classroom while clutching at his nose with one hand, and grabs the pass with the other. Harris quickly signs it, and Jackson practically sprints out of the room.

After the quiz, Harris gives us some time to discuss our latest lesson with our desk partner. I turn to Erica, who is hiding her face behind her hair again. That's one thing I've noticed about her, ever since I've met her; she's almost painfully shy. I can tell she's not going to initiate conversation by herself, so I lean towards her slightly and smile reassuringly.

"Hey, Erica. How's your day going?"

She hesitates, then mumbles, "It's okay," through her hair. I smile again. She looks up at me and looks like she's about to say something, but again her shyness gets the better of her and she doesn't say anything.

"What is it?" I ask gently.

Erica blushes and doesn't speak for a moment, then says softly, "I just wanted to thank you for letting me share your book yesterday."

I grin. "Well, you're welcome. I'm glad I could help."

Once class ends, Erica's first out the door, just like she was yesterday. This time, however, I'm right behind her. I catch up with her halfway down the hall and fall in step next to her.

"So, Erica… how long have you lived in Beacon Hills?"

"I've been here my whole life, pretty much," she says. "My family doesn't move around a lot." She looks over at me and smiles. "How about you?"

"I'm new here, actually. Just moved from…" My mind blanks out for a second on the location Six wrote as our hometown, but then I remember. "Phoenix, Arizona."

"Wow," Erica says, sounding impressed. "Isn't it… isn't it really hot out there?"

"Yeah, definitely," I say, chuckling. I actually know what I'm talking about here, because I've been to Phoenix before and experienced the heat firsthand while I was there.

Erica smiles at me, and I smile back. Part of me suddenly feels a surge of painful emotion, searing in my gut. I realize what it is a moment later; guilt, guilt for smiling and laughing with another girl while Sarah is alone in Paradise. I'm confused; Am I really flirting with Erica? Was that flirting? I try not to think about it and to put the guilt aside, but it continues to get worse, until I think I'm going to be sick.

When my stomach abruptly turns over, filling me with a queasy feeling from head to toe, I turn to Erica immediately. "Sorry, I don't feel so good all of a sudden. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

She smiles. "Yeah, that's fine. See you tomorrow."

"See you," I repeat, and then rush to the nearest bathroom.

.

_**Scott**_

I'm at Kate Argent's funeral, watching from a hiding place behind a large gravestone in order to give Allison moral support. Everything went about as normal as I could've expected it to, until the arrival of this mysterious old man. From what I can tell of him so far, he has to be another member of the Argent family, but that's all I know about him so far.

The old man walks up to Chris and holds out his arms. "Christopher."

Chris hugs him briefly. "Gerard."

I look closer, frowning. _Gerard?_ I've never seen him before, but he's obviously a hunter. As I watch, Gerard hugs Allison's mom and exchanges a few words with her.

Stiles abruptly slides in behind me; he hurried straight over after finally completing his detention with Harris.

Gerard bends to look directly into Allison's eyes. "Do you remember me?" he asks.

She looks up at him and nods, letting out a faint smile, but does not reply.

"Who the hell is that?" Stiles asks. Almost as soon as he speaks, Gerard turns and looks straight in our direction. Stiles and I instantly duck behind the gravestone, barely in time to avoid getting spotted.

"Definitely an Argent," I say. We glance back over to where Gerard is still talking to Allison.

"Considering I haven't seen you since you were three, I don't suppose I can assume you'll call me Grandpa," Gerard says. "So, if it's comfortable, call me Gerard for the time being." He smiles. "But I'd prefer Grandpa."

Gerard sits down next to Allison, who finally glances over in my direction. As soon as I know she's seen me, I wave quietly. She smiles softly and then turns back to face the front.

"Hey, you know, maybe they're just here for the funeral," Stiles says quietly. "What if they're the non-hunting side of the family? I mean, there could be non-hunting Argents, that's possible, right?"

Personally, I'd like to agree with him, but I know better than that. "I know why they're here," I reply. "They're reinforcements."

I turn back to watch the funeral proceedings continue–

–when a hand grabs me by the back of my shirt and yanks me backwards, spinning me around and bringing both me and Stiles face-to-face with a furious Sheriff Stilinski.

"The two of you… _unbelievable_," he growls. "Pick up my tie," he adds, glaring at Stiles, who bends over and snatches the Sheriff's tie off the ground.

"Yeah, I know, I'm supposed to ask…" Stiles says as the Sheriff drags us off by the scruffs of our necks.

.

Sitting in the backseat of the squad car a few minutes later, I'm slumped back against the seat, looking up at the ceiling, while Stiles sits next to me glancing around idly, when the police car's radio goes off. "_4-1-5 Adam._"

In the front seat, Sheriff Stilinski grabs the walkie-talkie and turns it on. "Dispatch, did you say 4-1-5 Adam?"

Stiles turns to look at me. "Disturbance in a car," he whispers.

"_Yeah, they were taking a heart attack victim TOA,_" reports the man on the other end of the radio. "_But on the way to the hospital, something hit 'em._"

"Hit the ambulance?" Sheriff Stilinski asks.

"_Copy that. I'm standing in front of it right now. Something got in the back; there's blood everywhere. And I mean everywhere._"

"All right, Unit 4, what's your twenty?" the Sheriff asks.

"_Route 5 and Post. I swear, I've never seen anything like this._"

Stiles and I exchange one glance, and we're out of the car before Sheriff Stilinski finishes his next sentence.

.

_**John/Four**_

It's getting late, and Six, Sam and I are sitting in our living room doing homework. Mine's already finished, so now I'm reading through the chemistry book, reviewing what I learned in class today just in case Harris decides to give us another pop quiz tomorrow (which, knowing him, wouldn't surprise me). BK is sitting at my feet, curled up on the carpet and napping.

But I've had enough relaxing for one day. I sit up and put the book down on the coffee table, making sure to mark the page I was reading. Six looks up at me, confused. "What's up?"

"Nothing, just thought I'd go out for a walk. Clear my head a bit."

Six nods. "Sure, that sounds good. But I wouldn't go too far if I were you; we haven't had any time to get used to this town, so getting lost would be pretty easy."

I nod. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." I stand up and walk over to the front door. Bernie Kosar gets to his feet and hurries across to my side; clearly, he wants to come with me. "Okay, boy," I say, rubbing his head. "You can come too."

"We still have homework to do," Six says. "So just come back home when you're done." She grins, and I grin back at her.

I open the door, and BK and I slip out of the house, only pausing to close the door behind us.

Fortunately, our house is only a short walk away from the woods, so it doesn't take very long for us to get into the forest. I've already decided just to walk along the road for a short distance, about half a mile, and then turn around and come back. That'll give me a workout without getting lost in the woods or having to walk through crowds of people.

As I walk down the road, BK bounding alongside me, my mind is swirling, pondering the strange things I've witnessed since arriving in Beacon Hills. If there is another member of the Loric Garde here, I wouldn't be surprised. My main questions, however, have to do with Scott McCall. Why does it feel like my hand is freezing every time I so much as touch him? What were he, Stiles and Jackson talking about in the locker room? And how is any of this linked to the missing girl, Lydia?

I'm so absorbed in my own thoughts that I don't notice the bright flashing lights and sounds of conversation until I'm right on top of the scene. I hurry off of the road and conceal myself behind a large tree, glancing around it to see an ambulance that appears to be parked – or broken down – in the middle of the road. BK, who has turned himself into a gecko, scampers up to my hand, and I place him in my pocket. After a few minutes, I see a sudden flicker of movement; someone is sneaking away from through the trees. I hurry after them, remaining at a considerable distance, but also making sure that I'm close enough not to lose sight of whoever it is.

Suddenly, the figure starts running, faster than I've ever seen any human run, avoiding obstacles with incredible grace and precision, moving through the trees effortlessly. I'm taken aback for a moment – no human can run that fast – but I overcome the shock and start running, hurtling through the woods in pursuit.

.

_**Scott**_

I'm racing through the dark forest, taking deep breaths of air as I search for any trace of Lydia's scent. I can definitely smell _something_ – the same scent I picked up at the ambulance – but I can't pinpoint the source. I lunge forward, landing on all fours and increasing my speed even more. My senses are scanning the forest… searching… searching… _there!_

I see the figure racing through the forest, a humanoid figure running on all fours. Only one creature runs like that; werewolves. I think I may have just found Lydia.

I race forwards, exerting myself to the utmost, inexorably closing in. As the figure leaps high into the air, I launch myself after them with a snarl; we collide in midair and tumble to the ground, skidding across the forest floor when we impact.

I look up and am shocked. The face of the werewolf snarling at me is definitely not Lydia; it's a man's face, sallow and waxy with long, tangled brown hair. His face is distorted by the werewolf transformation, as is mine, but he's clearly not who I'm looking for.

"You're not Lydia!" I exclaim. His only reply is a vicious snarl as he launches himself at me. I'm able to block most of his blows with my arms; after a few seconds, he mistimes a strike, leaving me an opening, and I grab his arms and flip him backwards over my head. He jumps up immediately and comes at me again, knocking me off my feet and landing on top of me. I roll over, knocking him off-balance, and then scramble back to my feet as he slams into me again. He drives me backwards towards a large tree, but I'm ready for it and jump, kicking off of the tree, landing balanced in front of him, seizing his arms in a vice grip and hurling him away. He lands hard, momentarily dazed, and snarls at me again, his eyes glowing yellow. I snarl back, and that seems to end his desire to fight; he jumps to his feet, turns and runs.

"Wait!" I yell, chasing after him.

.

_**John/Four**_

I lost sight of the guy who was running, although I'm pretty sure it was Scott. How he could run that fast is a mystery to me, but if he's a Garde member (as Six claims he might be) it would explain how he's so fast and agile. But he just doesn't _seem_ like he's Loric. He's unusual, certainly, but he seems human as well. I've never seen anything like this before, but I'm determined to find out what's going on.

I slow to a halt, breathing deeply, trying to use all of my senses. Hearing, smell, touch, and taste are all just as important as sight, and Henri helped me to train all of my senses in order to make me a better, more focused warrior. Which is good, because right now I need them.

I close my eyes, reaching out with my other senses to build a picture of the forest around me. Insects moving underfoot. Leaves rustling in the trees overhead. All of the sounds of the forest at night. Nothing unusual.

Then I hear it, instantly recognizable. Footsteps; two pairs, moving fast, not very far away. My eyes snap open, and I'm off again, homing in on the source of the noise.

.

_**Stiles**_

I'm standing next to the ambulance, listening to my dad lecture me, when I happen to idly glance past him towards the woods. And then I see her. Unmistakable, having just emerged from the trees, is Lydia.

"Lydia?" I say softly, momentarily unable to believe my eyes. My dad turns to face her too, his eyes widening in surprise. It's definitely her; her hair is matted and full of leaves, and she's staring blankly straight ahead, hugging herself and shivering, but it's definitely her.

"Lydia!" I call out, louder this time. She still doesn't respond, shivering and staring into space. I try again, yelling as loudly as I can this time. "_Lydia!_"

That time it works; she lifts her head, startled, and focuses on me. I can see the shift in her eyes; this is the real Lydia. Whatever happened to her, she's conscious again.

"Well?" she asks weakly. "Is anyone going to get me a coat?"

And as she says that, she holds out her arms, and it isn't until that exact moment that the fact that she's _naked_ actually registers in my brain. I stare, slack-jawed for a moment, until my rational brain takes over and I start tugging at my dad's coat, trying to get it off. Only problem is, I'm still staring, so I can't get it off of him, and after trying for a couple of seconds I take a step forward, trip over my own foot, and hit the ground with a thud.

.

_**Scott**_

"Wait!" I'm still chasing the other werewolf through the forest; we're running parallel to a stream now. "Stop!" I yell, but, of course, he doesn't even bother answering.

An instant later, there's a metallic whip-crack, and an instant later the werewolf I'm chasing is yanked vertically into the air by his hands. I skid to a halt right in front of him, looking up at him. That's when it hits me; this is one of the Argents' tripwires. I know how to get him free; I did it for myself last night when I got caught in one of these. I start forward, but I only make it one step before there's a blur of motion and something slams into me from behind, sending me flying. I whirl around and come face-to-face with Derek Hale, who's just thrown me across the clearing. He stalks over to me, grabs me by the neck and shoulder, and drags me across the clearing and behind a tree, out of sight.

I struggle frantically, trying to get loose and help the trapped werewolf. "What are you doing?! I can help him!" I snarl.

"They're already here," Derek hisses.

"I can help him!"

"_Quiet!_"

And then they appear. Five of them, walking out of the forest. Chris, Gerard, and three others. They quickly take up positions, surrounding the trapped werewolf hanging in the center of the clearing. The werewolf snarls, snapping at Chris as he circles the trapped creature. With a flick of his wrist, Chris draws a long metal rod from under his jacket and rams it into the werewolf's gut. There's a blaze of crackling electricity and the werewolf screams in agony, spasming as the electricity sears through his body. Suddenly, Chris lowers the rod, breaking the link. The werewolf is still moving, but as he spins partially it becomes clear that he's reverted to his human form. And, to my shock, I actually recognize him; it's that homeless guy that Jackson was insulting in the school parking lot this morning.

"Who are you?" Chris asks. The werewolf doesn't respond. "What are you doing here?"

That one gets a response. "Nothing," the werewolf gasps. "Nothing, I swear."

"You're not from here, are you?" When there's no response, he yells, "_Are you?!_"

"No," the werewolf says weakly. "No, I came… I came looking for the Alpha. I heard he was here, that's all."

Chris and Gerard exchange glances.

"Look, I didn't do anything," the werewolf goes on desperately. "I didn't hurt anyone. No one living. He wasn't alive in the ambulance. He wasn't, I swear!"

Gerard finally speaks. But it isn't to the werewolf, but to the other hunters around them. "Gentlemen!" he calls. "Take a look at a rare sight!" He turns to Chris. "You want to tell them what we've caught?"

"An Omega," Chris says.

"The lone wolf!" Gerard continues. "Possibly kicked out of his own pack… possibly the last survivor of a pack that was hunted down… maybe even murdered. Or possibly, alone by his own choice." He chuckles darkly. "Certainly, not a wise choice."

I struggle again, trying to pull free, but Derek holds fast, preventing me from moving. For a brief moment, I think I smell a familiar scent on the breeze, but a moment later Gerard's next action erases that thought from my mind. He walks over to a sack filled with weaponry and removes an ancient-looking sword, its blade gleaming silver in the moonlight. Then he walks back to his original spot, so that he is standing beside Chris again and directly in front of the Omega, who is looking around frantically and jerking against the wire around his wrists with an increasingly terrified expression on his face. "Because, as I am about to demonstrate," Gerard says, "an Omega rarely survives on his own!"

And Gerard swings the sword.

There is a sickening crunch of bone, and then silence. The Omega has been sliced in half at the waist; blood and intestines are pouring from the stump of his now lifeless upper torso, which still hangs from the tripwire. Gerard gazes calmly at the dead werewolf, a grim smile on his face.

"Look!" Derek hisses in my ear. "Look! Look at them!" He yanks my head around so I can see the whole scene again. "Do you see what they do? _This_ is why you need me, why we need each other! The only way to fight them is together!"

"What are they doing?" I whisper.

Derek's face hardens. "Declaring war."

Chris walks over to stand beside Gerard. "We have a code," he says firmly.

Gerard glances at him. "Not when they murder my daughter," he growls, and slams the sword point-first into a tree root, embedding it there so that it remains standing after he lets go of it. Then he turns to face Chris, his face cold. "No code. Not anymore. From now on, these things are just bodies waiting to be cut in half. Are you listening? Because I don't care if they're wounded and weak, or seemingly harmless, begging for their lives with the promise that they will _never, ever hurt anyone!_ Or some desperate, lost soul with no idea what they're getting into. We find them; we kill them." He turns, his dark eyes gazing up at the moon overhead, the expression on his face harder than granite. "We kill them all!"

.

_**John/Four**_

Of all the things I might have expected to find, this had not been one of them.

I'd gotten there just in time to see a guy hanging in midair, suspended by a wire wrapped around his wrists, with a group of about half a dozen armed men surrounding him, before one of them jammed something that looked – and acted – like a cattle prod into the man's abdomen, blasting him with electricity. I'd been present for the entire conversation that had taken place afterwards, although almost none of it had made any sense to me. And I'd been there for the horrific moment when the older man had sliced the prisoner in half with a sword.

But I still don't understand what actually happened there. All that talk about Alphas and Omegas and packs… and then there was that one other reference. _Lone wolf_, that older man had said, describing an Omega… and he'd also referred to the man whom he had killed as an Omega (whatever the hell that meant).

Well, whatever was going on, I'm not going to be able to figure it out on my own. I'll talk to Six; she usually knows how to solve this sort of thing.

It takes me about half an hour to hike back to our house, which means that I get back well after midnight. When I unlock the front door and slip inside, I see Sam asleep on the couch and Six reading in her favorite large, comfortable chair in the corner. She looks up and smiles when I enter the room. "Hey, how was your hike?" I don't say anything, mainly because I'm not entirely sure how to describe it. Eventually, I just decide to go for broke.

"Six, we have a problem. A _big_ problem."

.

**AN: And here we are at the end of **_**Omega**_**. Now, if anyone's worried that John, Six and Sam are playing small roles, don't worry; they're only playing small roles for right now, because they have no idea what's going on in Beacon Hills. As the story progresses, they'll have plenty of opportunities to be awesome and will take much more active roles.**

**As always, I tremendously appreciate your support, so please review if you have any comments or questions about the story (No hate, please).**

**See you next time!**


	6. Chapter 5: Shape Shifted, Part 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lorien Legacies or Teen Wolf.**

**Chapter 5 – **_**Shape Shifted**_**, Part 1**

.

_**Isaac**_

I'm sitting at the dinner table with my dad. Neither of us is speaking, but I actually like it better that way. The less I say, the better.

Unfortunately, that's when he decides to ask me about my grades.

"Uh… so far it's an A in French and a B-minus in Econ," I say, trying to give him the most positive results possible. That's one thing I've learned; tell him as little as possible, and only tell him the good things.

Now, if he'd let it stop there, the rest of the meal would've gone fine. But, because my dad never lets _anything_ rest, he carries on. "What about Chemistry?"

_Damn it._ I know I'm not doing well in Chemistry, but it's hardly my fault; Harris isn't a good teacher by any sense of the word. But I know perfectly well that there's no way my dad's going to let me blame my teacher for my grades, so I try to slip around the question. "Not sure, but midterms are in a few days, so it could go up."

Immediately, I can tell that's not a good enough excuse. "Well, what's it at now?" he asks.

Okay, _now_ I'm in trouble. Still, I've started myself on this path, and now I'm going to have to keep it up. "My grade?"

He chuckles humorlessly. "Yeah."

My heart beats faster. I look down at the plate, deliberately not facing him. "I… I'm not sure."

"Well, you just said it could go up…"

"I meant generally," I reply.

My father stares at me for a moment, a faint smile on his face, then goes back to cutting his meat. "You wouldn't be lying to me, would you, Isaac?"

I look up at him. Now I'm pretty sure that at least a trace of my fear is visible in my eyes. He always gets quiet like this, almost joking… then he snaps. I shake my head slowly, whispering, "No."

"Then tell me your grade," he says, the joking tone now completely absent.

"I just told you, I don't know."

"Do you want to take this little conversation… downstairs?" A cold surge of terror sweeps through me, and I shake my head numbly. _Not again. Please, not again._ "No?" He smiles coldly. "Then tell me the grade, son."

I look down again, trying to push away the rising fear and make a good argument. "Dad, the semester's only half over–"

"Isaac–"

"There's plenty of time to–"

"Isaac!"

Okay, that does it. I know that tone. No more avoiding the issue. That'll only make things worse. I stare down at the plate as I respond softly. "It's a D."

He doesn't appear angry, but I know that doesn't mean anything. He leans back in the chair, shrugging. "Okay, it's a D." He smiles faintly. "Now, I'm not angry."

_Lies,_ I think.

He ignores me. "But, you know, I'm going to have to find some way to punish you… I have my responsibilities as a parent." I'm paralyzed with fear for an instant, but to my surprise, he continues in a rational tone. "Tell you what, we'll start with something simple." He glances around briefly. "Ah… do the dishes and clean up the kitchen, okay?"

I nod, relieved. It could have been infinitely worse. "Yeah."

He smiles again, and suddenly I'm not so relieved anymore. There's a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Good. Because, you know, I'd like to see this place spotless."

And then he tosses his empty cup casually to the side. It shatters on the floor. I flinch. He doesn't even glance over at it, but continues staring at me. "You know what I'm saying? I mean, this entire kitchen…" Suddenly, he slams his hands down on the table, sweeping his entire plate off onto the floor. The plate breaks too. I jump back, cowering against the wall as he stands up, chuckling darkly. He picks up a glass from the table and I barely have enough time to cover my face before it shatters on the wall above my head.

"…Absolutely spotless," he finishes, grinning coldly. I look up at him, lowering my arms. Something stings on my right cheek; I reach up and feel a shard of glass embedded in my skin, right under my right eye. I grab it between two fingers and pull it out, wincing in pain.

My father just looks at me dispassionately. "Well, that was your fault."

I stare back at him in disbelief, which slowly turns to rage. I rise to my feet, brushing the shards of glass off my jacket as I glare at him. "You could have blinded me," I growl.

"Shut up," he snaps. "It's a scratch!" He turns away briefly, as I feel an odd sensation in my cheek, right on the cut. He turns back to face me. "It's hardly even…" His voice trails off, and he stares at me with a surprised look on his face.

I reach up and touch my cheek. The cut is gone. My skin is already almost completely smooth, with only a thin red line where the cut had been. And even as I touch it, that line of faint pain vanishes.

My face has healed instantly.

_Oh, shit,_ I think. My father is staring at me in shock.

Instantly, I run, spinning around and racing around the corner and down the hallway to the front door. I hear my dad yell "Isaac!" from behind me, but there's no way in hell I'm stopping. I burst out the front door, grab my bike, leap onto the seat and start frantically pedaling down the driveway and off down the street. "Isaac!" my dad yells again, but I ignore him. I'm getting out of there. Forever, if I have anything to say about it.

It starts to rain as I pedal up the street. I veer into a side alley, hit a large puddle, and the bike loses traction. It tips over and crashes to the ground, throwing me off. I jump to my feet and am about to retrieve it, when I hear a car driving towards the alley. Immediately, I turn and run, ducking into cover behind a Dumpster. I pause and listen.

I hear a car drive past the alley, stop, and then back up. The car stops again, a door opens, and I hear my dad's voice. "Isaac? Isaac!" There's a brief pause, and then he calls out, "Okay, that's enough! Isaac, grab your bike, and let's go!"

Stretching out with my new senses, I can hear my dad's heartbeat, not far from me. Then, a moment later, I hear something else that stops me cold.

The sound of another heartbeat.

_What?_ That's impossible. I would've seen anyone else in the alley, and I haven't heard any other footsteps, but there are distinctly two different heartbeats in the alley apart from mine; my dad's, and someone else's.

A moment later, I hear my dad's voice again. "Isaac?" He pauses for a few seconds, and then, so suddenly it surprises me, he yells, "Holy–!" He starts running; I can hear his footsteps. His car door slams, and an instant later I hear a tremendous bang of metal. There's a crunching sound, and then a sound of metal crumpling as – I can only assume – his car door is ripped off its hinges.

And then my father starts screaming.

I've never heard him make this sound before. This is a bloodcurdling scream of terror and agony. The screams continue for several seconds, each one causing me to flinch in shock and horror.

And then, as suddenly as it began, the screaming stops.

And now, there are not three heartbeats audible to my senses; mine, my dad's, and someone else's.

Now, there is only mine.

.

_**John/Four**_

"So, what you're telling us is that you saw someone getting murdered."

I've just finished telling Six and Sam the full story of everything that happened in the woods. Six looks at me from the chair in the corner, her eyes narrowed in contemplation, while Sam looks somewhat stunned.

"Yeah, I did," I reply to Six's statement. "And not just murdered. _Cut in half with a freaking sword._ Something really bad is going on in this town."

"Well, duh," Sam puts in from the couch.

"And it's not just that. Those guys, the ones who killed him, were talking about all this stuff that didn't really make sense. Stuff about Alphas, Omegas, lone wolves, packs…" I trail off, waving my hand in exasperation. "None of it makes any sense to me, but I know something seriously weird is happening here. I mean, look at the reports of all these animal attacks that have been happening here recently. And now this."

Six nods slowly. "Yeah, you're right. But why wolves, though? I mean, the wolf references you said they were making… what does that even mean?"

"No idea. But it clearly means something."

"Well," Sam interjects, "actually, I don't know if this matters to the topic, but I did a school research project on wolves once, and I read an article saying that wolves haven't been seen in California for decades."

"Then why would a bunch of old guys be walking around the woods at night talking about wolves and murdering people?" Six asks. "Doesn't exactly sound realistic."

"Says the alien," Sam counters.

She nods, admitting the point. "Okay, point taken. So… any ideas on what we do?"

"I have one," I say. "We go back to the woods tomorrow, and we search as much of it as we can. If we find anything, we'll have proof that there's something going on. If not, it still beats hanging around the house all day."

"You're forgetting that we have school tomorrow," Six says. "We can't miss school on our first week; not a good idea. Not to mention, you have your lacrosse tryout tomorrow."

"Right," I agree. "Okay, so we'll go after school, then. But we need to find out what's going on."

"Agreed," Six replies.

.

_**Isaac**_

I burst into the abandoned station and sprint down the stairs, my entire body shaking. I'd ridden my bike all the way here, pedaling faster than I ever had in my life. "Derek!" I yell, racing into the station and up to the subway car in the middle of the room. "Derek!"

Derek's already there, of course. "What's wrong?"

"My dad," I gasp. "I think he's dead."

Derek walks out of the shadows, his glowing red eyes fading into their normal color. His face is serious. "What did you do?"

I shake my head. "That's the thing. It wasn't me."

.

_**John/Four**_

I walk down the hallway leading to the locker room, looking for Scott and Stiles. I see them as I walk into the locker room; they're standing by Stiles' locker. Scott's grinning like an idiot, while Stiles seems exasperated; from what I've noticed of them so far, that probably means Scott's talking about Allison. The fact that they're together is obvious to me; I'm very good at reading body language in others, not to mention that the attitude they have around each other is a lot like that between Sarah and I when I still lived in Paradise.

"All right, I get it!" Stiles is yelling as I walk into the locker room. "Now, please, shut the hell up, before I have the urge to maim and kill myself!"

"All right; did you get something better than handcuffs this time?"

I slow to a halt, confused. _Handcuffs?_

Stiles nods. "Yeah. Much better." He puts his backpack on the floor, then opens his locker – and about ten feet of metal chain pours out of the locker onto the floor. I watch, totally confused. _What in the hell does he need that for?_

Apparently, Coach Finstock is as confused about this as I am. He walks up to Scott and Stiles with a blank look, staring at the pile of chain on the floor. "Part of me wants to ask; the other part says knowing will be more disturbing than anything I could ever imagine, so… I'm gonna walk away."

"That's, uh… that's a wise choice, Coach," Stiles says. Finstock walks away, and Scott and Stiles crouch down on the floor and start scooping up the chain.

I walk over to Finstock. He grins when he sees me coming. "Ah, hey, Reynolds. You ready for your tryout?"

"Yeah, definitely, Mr.… uh, Coach," I say. Finstock nods and shakes my hand. "You'll do fine. Go talk to Danny, he'll get you a practice uniform."

"Thanks," I say. I walk over to the dark-haired, muscular guy in the corner, who I remember Allison referred to as Danny two days ago in Harris' class. He nods and smiles in a friendly way when he sees me approaching him. "Hey, nice to meet you. I'm Danny. Carter, right?"

"Yeah," I reply, shaking his hand. Unlike Scott's hand, his feels totally normal. No unusual heat, cold, or anything else; he's as ordinary as Sam or Stiles. "Nice to meet you too. Uh… Coach said you could get me a practice uniform? I'm trying out for the team today."

"Today?" Danny says, raising his eyebrows. "Wow, Coach must really think you have talent. He usually never lets people try out unless they arrange it way beforehand." He chuckles. "Well, if he thinks you're that good, then you should get in pretty easily. Good to have you on the team."

"Thanks," I reply.

"Okay, follow me. Let's get you some practice gear." Danny leads me to the back of the room, where he fits me out with full lacrosse gear and hands me a stick. Grinning, he slaps me on the shoulder. "Perfect. It looks good on you."

I grin back. "Uh… thanks for the compliment."

"No problem," Danny says. "Just pay attention, focus on the ball, and don't get on Jackson's bad side, and you'll do fine." He flashes a quick grin. "Have fun."

"Thanks for the advice," I say, nodding.

I walk over to Scott and Stiles, both of whom grin at me. Stiles chuckles. "Nice, dude. Looks good."

I smile. "Thanks. Now let's go have some fun."

.

Out on the lacrosse field, I walk over to Scott and Stiles, who are sitting on the bench together, talking.

"…if you could get him one-on-one, would that help?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah," Scott replies.

Stiles nods. "Okay, I've got an idea." He stands up and runs off down the sidelines.

I walk over and sit down next to Scott. He turns to face me. "Oh, hey, Carter. You ready?"

I nod hesitantly. "Yeah, I'm ready. A little nervous, though. I've never been on an official lacrosse team before." For once, that statement is completely true; I've never been on any kind of sports team before.

"Well, just stay calm, relax, and you'll do fine," he assures me.

"Thanks." I nod, smiling faintly. Then the idea occurs to me to try to get some information out of him about the weird conversations I've overheard between him and Stiles. "So… who are you trying to get one-on-one?"

His head snaps around to look at me. "Sorry, what?"

I shrug. "Well, Stiles asked you if it would help if you could get somebody one-on-one; I was wondering who you were talking about."

He looks nervous for a moment. "Uh… well, I…"

Just then, Stiles comes running back down the sideline. He sits down on Scott's other side and hands him a more elaborate pair of gloves. "Hey, I talked to Coach; you're switching with Danny for the day."

Scott looks at him blankly. "But I hate playing goal."

Stiles sighs. "Look, remember when I told you I had an idea? This is the idea."

"Oh, got it," Scott says, taking the gear from Stiles. Then he pauses. "What's the idea?"

Stiles looks at him for a moment. "I seriously don't understand how you survive without me sometimes."

A moment later, Finstock blows his whistle. "Let's go!" he shouts. "Line it up! Reynolds, you too!"

The entire team lines up, facing the goal. Scott and a single defender take up positions at the end of the field, Scott in front of the goal and the other guy several yards ahead of him. I end up in the middle of the line, right behind Jackson. He doesn't say anything to me, and I don't try to make conversation with him either.

Finstock blows his whistle again and tosses a ball to the first guy in line, who catches it neatly in the net attached to his lacrosse stick and starts running towards the goal. To my surprise, Scott immediately runs forward, bursting past the other defender, and slams into the guy with the ball, tackling him to the ground.

"McCall!" Finstock calls out, as Scott helps the other guy up. "You know, usually the goalie stays somewhere within the vicinity of the actual goal?"

"Yeah, sorry, Coach," Scott says.

Scott retakes his position, Finstock blows his whistle again, and he tosses the ball to the next guy. This time, Scott immediately charges out to intercept him, and this time slams a shoulder into his gut, flipping the guy up and over his shoulder. The guy hits the ground flat on his back, and Scott immediately turns and helps him up again.

"What the hell, man?" the guy groans.

"My bad, dude," Scott replies apologetically.

I'm totally confused at this point – what the hell is Scott doing? Finstock seems to agree with me, because he yells at Scott again. "McCall! The position's goal_keeper_, not goal-_abandoner_."

"Sorry, Coach," Scott says again, going back to his position in the goal again. Finstock blows the whistle a third time, tosses the ball, and the next guy's off. And once again, Scott rushes forward and tackles the guy head-on.

Finstock stalks over to Stiles. "Stilinski! What the hell is wrong with your friend?"

"Uh, he's failing two classes, he's socially awkward, and if you look close enough his jawline's kind of uneven," Stiles replies. I chuckle to myself.

Finstock stares at Scott for a moment. "That's interesting," he mutters, and walks away, letting go of Stiles.

I turn to face Stiles, leaning around the guy standing behind me. "Uh… he's not going to do that to me, is he?"

Stiles looks at me for a moment. "Probably," he replies. "He, uh… he'll want you to get the full experience in your tryout."

"Great," I say flatly, turning back to face the front. _Just great._

"All right, let's fire it up!" Finstock calls, tossing the ball to the next guy in line and blowing the whistle again. This time it's Danny; he snags the ball neatly and takes off down the field. Predictably, Scott runs forward and slams into him. This time, Scott doesn't send Danny flying backwards; instead, he grabs his arms as they collide and they spin around in the air once, then crash to the ground with Danny flat on his back and Scott lying on top of him. I wince.

"McCall!" Finstock yells, his face livid. "You come out of that goal one more time, and you'll be doing suicide runs until you die. It'll be the first ever suicide run that actually ends in a suicide! Got it?"

"Yes, Coach," Scott says, walking back to the goal. Jackson, who's in front of me, looks at Scott for a moment, then turns to face Finstock. "Uh, Coach, my shoulder's hurting. I'm gonna sit this one out."

Finstock nods, and Jackson walks off the field. Finstock grins when he sees me. "All right, Reynolds! Time for your first tryout!" He appears to consider something for a moment, then smiles. "All right, here's the deal. If you can score with the way McCall's playing goal, you don't have to do anything else; I will let you on the team based solely on that. If you can't, then your tryout lasts the rest of practice." He crosses his arms. "Impress me."

I nod, stepping forward and readying myself. _All right, I can do this. Just have to watch him… his movement will give him away, show which direction he's going to go. Watch the cues, and then move._

Finstock blows the whistle and tosses the ball to me. I stretch my reflexes, and move.

My arm comes up, lifting the lacrosse stick almost of its own accord, and casually catching the ball in the net. My eyes lock onto the goal, with Scott still standing in front of it, and I take off, launching myself towards the goal. Once again, Scott runs forward to intercept me; however, I've already seen him do this, so I know exactly what he's going to do. It's effective; if I was human, like the other guys, there's no way I could get past him.

Fortunately, however, I'm not human.

I wait until I'm less than ten feet from him until I make my move. As Scott lunges forward to tackle me, I crouch, push off from the ground with a significant burst of my true strength, and vault forward into the air. I kick upward, performing a forward somersault in midair, and tuck my head in close.

And, just as I'd hoped, I sail through the air directly above Scott as he whips through the space where I was standing a moment earlier with enough momentum that he trips and slams to the ground. I roll over in the air, getting my legs underneath me, and land solidly on both feet. Before anyone has time to react, I straighten, take three steps forward, and whip the lacrosse stick with all of my strength, letting the flex travel up through my body, out along my arms and out to the end of the lacrosse stick, hurling the ball with so much force that it shoots straight past the other defender and directly into the open goal.

There's one second of dead silence, and then the entire team erupts in cheers. Finstock's voice is by far the loudest, yelling at the top of his lungs, "Yes! _Yes! YES!_ _That's_ how we do it, Reynolds!" He laughs and runs up to me, high-fiving me. "Carter Reynolds, welcome to the Beacon Hills High School lacrosse team!"

The team cheers again, and I'm surrounded by high-fives and congratulations. A few seconds later, however, Finstock yells, "All right, cut it out! There'll be plenty of time for that sort of thing after practice! McCall, get back in the goal. Lahey, you're up."

I back off, watching as another kid, skinny with curly brown hair, steps forward, his jaw clenching and unclenching constantly. Stiles, who is standing behind him, looks at him with a slightly nervous expression on his face.

Finstock blows the whistle, tosses the ball, and the curly-haired boy takes off. Scott charges as well. They collide in the center of the field, but instead of Scott knocking him backwards, the two spin in a complete half-circle in the air, bodies fully extended behind them, arms locked, and then slam to the ground on their hands and knees, facing each other.

I'm momentarily confused. _What the hell was that?_

Scott and the other kid face each other for a few seconds, until they suddenly turn their heads, looking away. I turn as well, to see three police officers walking towards the field.

.

_**Scott**_

"His father's dead," I say softly to Stiles as we watch Sheriff Stilinski and the other two officers talking to Isaac and Coach Finstock. "They think he was murdered."

"Well, are they saying he's a suspect?" Stiles asks.

"I don't know, why?"

Stiles sighs. "Because they can hold him for 24 hours."

I stiffen, realization flashing through me. "Like… overnight?"

He nods. "During the full moon."

"How good are those holding cells at holding people?"

"People? Good. Werewolves? Probably not that good," Stiles replies.

I stare at Isaac, growing increasingly nervous. "Stiles, remember when I said that I don't have the urge to maim and kill?"

"Yeah."

"He does."

.

**AN: And here we are again. Sorry it's taken me so long to update, school's been keeping me very busy lately. I should have the second part of **_**Shape Shifted**_** up sometime this week.**

**Also, I'm going to be debuting three new stories at some point soon, all of which will be **_**Teen Wolf**_** fanfics. The first one is called **_**Blood Ties**_**, and features a new character named Adam Davies (Scott's cousin), who moves to Beacon Hills at the start of the second season and is bitten by a strange creature in the forest at night; however, the creature is not a werewolf… but a vampire. The second story is called **_**The Darach's Apprentice**_**, and describes the events that would have taken place if, after Matt Daehler died in Season 2, he was revived as a Darach by Jennifer Blake to help her gain vengeance against the Alpha pack. The third story is called **_**Beacon Point**_**, and will be a crossover with another television show called **_**That 70's Show**_**; it will feature a young Peter Hale and an OC I've created, his older brother Nathan, as they take part in an exchange program for Peter's last two years of high school in the 1970s, resulting in their moving to Point Place, Wisconsin, and discovering a complex supernatural community that they must deal with, while also exploring the everyday problems of high school alongside the gang from **_**That 70's Show**_**.**

**I hope you're enjoying the story, and I appreciate all of the reviews. Shout-outs to XxxBellaBellaxxX, Moonyong98, Arthur57 and kc1690 for reviewing. Keep them coming, please! (Again, no hate, please.)**

**See you all next time!**

**Review Q&A:**

**Q: I can't wait for them to be awesome!**

**A: Don't worry, they will be soon enough. In fact, I can say for sure that within the next three chapters, you'll see a seriously awesome Loric/werewolf fight. The question is, who will be fighting, and why?**

**Q: I'm so excited to bite my teeth into this story. I'm just waiting for my workload in school to lighten up. But I'm so thrilled this crossover exists!**

**A: Well, thanks for the compliment. I appreciate it.**

**Q: Hmm. Well, I would think Stiles is the one they're looking for. But it only says Scott, along with John, in the description, so I guess we'll see.**

**A: Yes, we will indeed see. But I will say this; I deliberately only selected the central character from each franchise for the description, so it couldn't give away any hints about the direction in which I'm planning to take the story.**

**(I answered all of these questions at once because they were all asking about the same topic)**

**Q: Hmm. Five could be anyone. It's killing me really! Poor Stiles, I would think it's him as he's the odd man on the series LOL**

**Q: Hmm. I really wonder. Could it be Danny? Is Danny number 5? Please say yes! Please!**

**Q: Wow! I can't wait to see how this continues and ends. I would think Danny is Number Five. He's the only one that really hasn't had a part in the story. I think it would be awesome if he was. I guess we'll see.**

**A: Well, it seems we're going to have a lot of guessing as the season goes on. I agree that Danny doesn't really have a significant enough part in the actual series, but for those of you who are already assuming I'd make him Number Five because of that, remember that John didn't notice anything unusual when he was around Danny, while he always senses it around Six, and even around Scott. To John, Danny's "presence", for lack of a better word, felt as ordinary as that of Stiles or Sam. Make of that what you will. So, don't assume anything about Five's identity yet. I can promise, however, that before Season 3 begins, we will discover Five's identity. And you may be surprised when you do. :)**


	7. Chapter 6: Shape Shifted, Part 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Lorien Legacies or Teen Wolf.**

**Chapter 6 – **_**Shape Shifted**_**, Part 2**

.

_**Scott**_

I'm sitting with Stiles in Harris' chemistry class again, after the end of practice. I'm still going over the events of practice in my mind repeatedly, trying to find an answer, but the situation is just too complicated.

For one thing, there's the whole Carter issue. I glance over at him, sitting next to the blonde girl, Erica, on the other side of the room.

_What in the hell is he?_

After seeing his performance in practice, I have absolutely no idea how he managed to do that, but there's one thing I'm sure of after witnessing that performance; there's no way he's just an ordinary human. Only an Olympic gymnast could have pulled off something like that, and I know Carter's not a gymnast. But at the same time, I don't think he's a werewolf. If he had been, I'd have been able to tell instantly. With Isaac, I'd known there was another werewolf on the team just because we'd both been in the locker room at the same time. With Carter, there's still the burning sensation that I feel whenever I touch him or focus on him, but apart from that, I can't get any other supernatural feeling about him. Ah, well, I'll ask Derek about it later; right now, we have to worry about Isaac.

"Why would Derek choose Isaac?" I whisper to Stiles.

"Well, Peter told me that if the bite doesn't turn you, it kills you," Stiles replies softly. "Maybe teenagers have a better chance of survival."

"Does being a teenager mean your dad can't hold him?" I ask.

"Not unless they have solid evidence. Or a witness…" Stiles turns abruptly, looking toward the back of the room, where Jackson and Danny usually sit; only now, there's only Danny. "Hey, Danny!" he whispers. "Where's Jackson?"

"In the principal's office, talking to your dad," Danny responds.

"What?!" Stiles hisses. "Why?"

Danny shrugs. "Uh, probably because he lives across the street from Isaac."

Stiles turns back to face me, a stunned look on his face.

"A witness," I say.

"Okay, we have to get to the principal's office."

"How?"

"Everyone please turn to page two hundred and seventy-three," Harris calls as he reaches up to write something on the blackboard. A moment later, a crumpled piece of paper bounces off of the back of his head. Muffled laughter ripples through the class.

Harris turns, his face cold. "Who in the hell did that?"

I point at Stiles, as he points simultaneously at me.

.

Several minutes later, we're both sitting outside the principal's office, craning our necks as we listen to the conversation going on inside.

"So you're telling me that you knew Isaac's father was hitting him?" Sheriff Stilinski asks.

"Hitting him? He was kicking the crap out of him," Jackson replies.

"Did you ever say anything to anyone? I mean, teachers, parents, anyone?"

"Nope; it's not my problem."

Sheriff Stilinski pauses briefly. "No, no, of course not. Funny, the kids getting beaten up are always the ones who least deserve it."

"Yeah," Jackson replies casually. "Wait, what?"

"I think we're done here," Sheriff Stilinski says. Stiles frantically covers his face with a magazine as the Sheriff and one of his deputies walk out of the office. Sheriff Stilinski looks at Stiles for a moment, then glances over at me. "Hi, Scott."

I smile faintly. "Hey."

Sheriff Stilinski looks at Stiles again, then turns and walks away, shaking his head.

I grin, and then I hear a terrifyingly familiar voice and the smile instantly vanishes as I turn around.

"Boys?"

Standing in the doorway of the classroom, a faint smile on his face, is Gerard Argent. He smiles at me. "Come on in."

.

_**John/Four**_

I'm walking outside the school, when I see several police officers exit the building with the curly-haired boy, Isaac, between them. They escort him to a squad car waiting in the parking lot, he climbs into the back, and they pull out smoothly. As the car drives away, I see Scott burst through the front door and skid to a halt, looking at the car. Isaac looks back at him for a few seconds as the car drives away.

Scott turns away and starts walking back towards the front door. I'm about to go over and try to talk to him, when a black Camaro screeches to a halt where the squad car was a few seconds earlier. The guy in the driver's seat, a young man in his twenties with black hair, wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses, leans toward Scott. "Get in."

"Are you serious?" Scott yells. I duck down behind a plant, trying to avoid being seen. Neither of them notices me, and Scott continues ranting. "You did that! This is your fault!"

The guy nods slowly. "I know that. Now get in the car, and help me."

"No, I've got a better idea!" Scott says. "I'm going to get a lawyer! Because a lawyer might actually be able to get him out of there before the moon goes up!"

I frown. _The moon?_ What did that matter?

"Not once they do a full search of the house," the guy argues.

"What do you mean?" Scott asks.

"Look, whatever Jackson said to the cops, what's in the house is worse. A lot worse."

The guy reaches across and opens the door. Scott hesitates for a few seconds, then climbs into the passenger's-side seat and closes the door. The car burns rubber and accelerates out of the parking lot.

As soon as it's gone, I grab my phone out of my pocket and dial. Six picks up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Six?" I ask. "It's me. We're going to have to make a change of plans."

"What's up?"

"I'll tell you when we get home."

.

"So, what's the plan?" Sam asks as he, Six and Bernie Kosar sit patiently in the living room of our house.

"We split up," I say. "Sam, you and BK go to Isaac's house – he lives right down the street from us. See if you can find out what Scott's doing there, but make sure not to let them see you."

Sam nods. "You got it."

"I should go to the kid's house," Six says. "Those guys might be dangerous."

"Well, in case you're forgetting, I'll have the dog who can transform into a giant monster," Sam says, grinning as he pats Bernie Kosar on the head. "I think we'll be fine."

"Okay, fine. And what are we doing?" Six asks, looking at me.

"I'm going to go back to where that guy was killed last night, see if I can find any clues as to who those people were. I'll need backup in case they're dangerous; someone with some serious firepower. And no offense, Sam, but Six fits that category a lot more than you do."

She grins. "You got it."

Sam shrugs and grins wryly. "Agreed."

"All right, then. Sam, if anything happens, call one of us immediately. Got it?"

"No problem," he says promptly.

"Okay," Six says. "Let's get moving."

.

_**Scott**_

Derek and I walk into Isaac's darkened house, the beam of my flashlight darting through the room. "If Isaac didn't kill his father, who did?" I ask.

"I don't know," Derek replies quietly.

"Well, then… how do you know he's telling the truth?"

He looks at me. "Because I trust my senses. And it's a combination of them; not just your sense of smell."

He looks directly at me for a long moment, and I look away, a faint blush coming to my cheeks. "You… saw the lacrosse today?" I ask.

"Yeah."

"Did it look that bad?"

"Yeah."

I continue walking, but Derek continues. "Who was that other kid?"

My eyes widen slightly. I'd assumed that, if Carter was a werewolf, then Derek would've known about him. "Which one?"

"The blonde one. The one who jumped over you."

I shrug after a moment. "His name's Carter. Carter Reynolds. He's new in school, just joined this week. And honestly, I have no idea how he did that. I've gotten close to him, though, and he definitely doesn't smell anything like a werewolf. He smells… human. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Derek asks, his voice serious. "What do you mean, _mostly_?"

"I mean there's something unusual about him. Something's off in his scent. It's… different. Not werewolf, but… not really human, either. Same with his sister."

"Anything else… odd about them?"

I consider telling him about the bizarre sensation of searing heat I felt when I shook hands with Carter and Angela, but decide against it for now.

"No, not really."

.

"You want to learn?" Derek opens a door, revealing a set of stairs that lead down into the basement. "Start here."

I walk down the stairs slowly. "What's down there?'

"Motive," Derek replies.

"And what am I looking for?"

"Follow your senses."

I move quietly through the basement, reaching out with my senses. "What happened down here?"

"The kind of event that leaves an impression," Derek says.

I kneel down, my senses working at top form, studying everything. I see a broken mirror leaning against the wall; my fingers trace along scratch marks on the concrete floor. I lift my head, following the faint scent of Isaac that hangs in the air, and find myself looking directly at an old freezer bin a few feet away from me.

I walk over, tentatively reaching out and gripping the padlock. There's a muffled noise, and I look over to see that Derek is now standing next to me. He looks at me expectantly. "Open it."

I remove the padlock and set it aside, slowly lifting the lid of the freezer and stiffening, immobilized by my shock. The interior of the freezer is covered in scratch marks, some of them bloody, and all of them obviously left by human fingernails.

_Oh, my god._

.

_**John/Four**_

Six and I are walking through the woods, towards the spot by the river where the guy was killed. Only, when we arrive, there's nothing there.

"This was it," I say, walking forward. "He was hanging from this tree. They had some kind of rope or wire around his wrists, hanging him from a branch."

Six glances around. "Well, it's understandable that they would've cleaned the area up to dispose of the evidence, but you'd think that if somebody got sliced in half with a sword…"

"Then there'd be some kind of trace left behind. Blood, something. Yeah, I know." I run a hand through my hair. "Obviously, these guys are good at covering their tracks. _Very_ good."

Six nods. "Where did you say the guy was?"

I walk closer to the tree, pointing upwards. "Right up there – whoa!" There's a metallic _twang_, and I'm yanked off the ground, whipped upside down and hoisted upwards by my ankle, which now has a wire wrapped around it.

_Shit!_ This is obviously how that other guy must've been caught, though I can't help wondering how he managed to get the wire around his wrists. I glace up to see Six looking at me with an expression of surprise and alarm on her face; that expression quickly gives way to amusement, and she chuckles. "So how you doing, John? Just… hanging out?"

"Very funny," I growl. "Now get me out of this thing, before whoever set it…"

Suddenly, I hear a noise, not far away and approaching quickly footsteps, multiple pairs of them, walking towards our location. "Six, they're coming! Get me out of this thing _now!_"

She nods quickly and, lifting her hands, makes a quick twisting motion. The loop of wire around my ankle loosens and releases me, and I drop heavily to the ground. Leaping to my feet, I grab Six's arm and sprint ten yards before ducking behind a large tree, pulling her into cover. A moment later, several men in dark clothes emerge from the trees, carrying various weapons. One of them, who I recognize as the old man from last night, steps forward, inspecting the broken trap. "Interesting," he says. "Any thoughts?"

The younger man from last night walks forward to join him. "Well, from the position of the break in the wire… I don't think whoever got caught here was alone."

"Agreed," the older man says. "One individual could free themselves by _breaking_ the wire, but it would take more than one to simply release the snare."

"So what does this mean?"

The older man smiles faintly. "It means that we were correct; there is still more than one of them in this town. More than two, actually, if we count young Mr. Lahey."

"Well, he'll be taken care of tonight; our man should be at the station soon."

"Indeed. Now, since we're clearly not going to find anything else here, I'd say we should head home and wait for the report."

"Right."

As the men walk away, Six and I exchange looks, mystified. _What the hell were they talking about?_

One thing is clear, though; Isaac Lahey is in danger. For whatever reason, those men sent someone to the jail to "take care of him", which I know means "kill him".

I turn to Six. "We need to get to the police station. _Now._"

.

_**Scott**_

"This is why he said yes to you!"

"Everyone wants power," Derek replies calmly.

I glare at him. "If I help you… then you have to _stop_. You can't just go around turning people into werewolves!"

"I can if they're willing!" Derek argues.

"Did you tell Isaac about the Argents? About being hunted?"

He nods. "Yes, and he still asked."

"Then he's an idiot!"

"Yeah, and you're the idiot _dating Argent's daughter!_" Derek snaps. I stare at him for a moment, shocked. "Yeah," he continues. "I know your little secret. And if I know, how long do you think it's going to take before they find out?"

I look away, but Derek is relentless. "You saw what happens to an Omega." He reaches out and grasps my shoulder. "With me, you learn how to use all of your senses. With me, you learn control." He turns my head, forcing me to face him, and holds up one hand, his fingernails growing into claws. "Even on a full moon."

I whirl around to face him, yanking myself free of his grasp. "If I'm with you, I lose her."

"You're gonna lose her anyway. You know that." Derek turns to leave, but I call after him.

"Wait!" He stops and turns to face me.

"I'm not part of your pack. But I want him out. He's my responsibility too."

"Why?" Derek asks. "Because he's one of us?"

"Because he's innocent."

.

A few minutes later, after Derek leaves to go to the station, the door at the top of the stairs creaks open, and Allison enters the basement. "Scott?" She walks down the stairs and over to where I'm kneeling on the floor, fighting to stay in control. She opens the bag she was carrying, revealing the chain that Stiles left inside it. "Are you sure we have to do this?" she asks.

I look up, revealing my face, which I know is currently half-transformed; my canines have extended, and my eyes are flashing back and forth between glowing yellow and their regular brown as I struggle to restrain myself. "Yes," I whisper.

"Where?" she asks.

I raise one hand, angling my flashlight beam and indicating the freezer.

With Allison's help, I climb into the freezer and lie down on my back. I look up, seeing her standing over me. "Please," I say softly. "I don't want to hurt you."

She nods reluctantly and reaches up to close the freezer, but then hesitates. Slowly, she reaches down and kisses me softly. I kiss her back, then lie back as she closes the lid, shrouding me in darkness.

.

_**Stiles**_

I pull up to the police station and park my Jeep out front. I glance over at Derek, sitting in the passenger's seat, and then look in through the front window. One of my dad's deputies, a young woman I recognize, is moving around by the front desk.

"Okay. Now, the keys to every cell are in a password-protected lockbox in my father's office," I say to Derek. "The problem is getting past the front desk."

"I'll distract her," Derek says, turning to get out of the car.

I grab his shoulder. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! You? You're not going in there!" He glances down at my hand on his shoulder, then back up at me. I quickly let go. "I'm taking my hand off."

"I was exonerated," Derek argues.

"Yeah, well, you're still a person of interest."

"An innocent person."

"An… You?" I laugh. "Yeah, right!" He continues staring at me. "Okay, fine. What's your plan?"

"To distract her," Derek says, like I'm being a complete idiot.

"Uh-huh. How? By punching her in the face?"

He fakes a laugh, clearly not amused. "By talking to her."

"Okay, all right. Give me a sample. What're you gonna open with?" He considers for a few seconds, then stares back at me, obviously unable to come up with anything. I sigh. "Dead silence. That should work beautifully. Any other ideas?"

Derek rolls his eyes. "I'm thinking about punching you in the face."

.

I walk into the station behind Derek, making sure to stay out of sight as the woman walks into the room, checking some paperwork. She sees Derek standing by the desk and lowers the papers, asking "Good evening, how can I help…" She puts down the papers and actually looks up at him. Her voice trails off slowly. "…you?"

_Oh, good god,_ I think.

Derek smiles. "Hi."

"Hi," she replies, smiling back. I groan inwardly and consider slapping myself on the forehead, but decide against it.

"Um… I had a question," Derek says. "Uh… sorry, I'm a little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone…"

She giggles. "Like… me?"

"Well, I was going to say so incredibly beautiful, but yeah, I guess that'd be the same thing," Derek replies, grinning again, as I slip past them into the office. This time, I do facepalm after I've rounded the corner.

I walk into my dad's office and enter the code on the lockbox. The lid pops off, and I remove it… revealing that the box is empty. The keys are gone.

_Oh, no._ My eyes widen, and I run back out of the office. I round another corner and run straight into a guy wearing a deputy's uniform. I stumble backward. "Oh. I, uh… sorry, I was looking for…" I look down, and see a piece of wood sticking out of his thigh; a piece of a broken arrow. My eyes lock with his, and we're frozen for a split second. "Oh, sh–" I mutter as I turn to run, but the guy lunges forward and grabs me from behind, yanking me backwards and dragging me down the hall.

.

_**Allison**_

I exit the basement after I finish locking the freezer using the chain that Stiles gave me and lean against the door for a few seconds, breathing deeply. I back away from the door and walk through the quiet, darkened house, checking my surroundings for any signs of an intruder. Nothing.

Then, of course, the light coming from my flashlight starts to flicker. I bang it against my hand repeatedly, trying to jolt it, but the light flickers out. I put it down on the kitchen island and lean forward, breathing deeply and trying to calm down.

That's when I hear it; breathing. A second person breathing, this one hoarse and rasping. I cup my hands over my mouth, silencing the sounds of my breath, but the other's breathing continues. Slowly, my eyes wide in fear, I turn.

It is standing in the adjacent room. I only see a brief glimpse of it, but I can see a tall, muscular body, dark-skinned and indistinct. It lets out a low hiss that sounds like crunching glass.

I recoil, letting out a terrified scream.

.

_**Scott**_

I hear the scream, filling me with horrified dread. "Allison!" I yell. "Allison!" Frantically, I start hammering against the inside of the freezer, bashing my hands and feet into the sides and lid, desperately trying to get out.

.

_**Stiles**_

For someone with half an arrow in his leg, this guy is still really strong. He drags me inexorably backwards down the hallway, although I manage to grab and set off a fire alarm on the wall in the process, and into a familiar room; the holding cells. He tosses me to the floor and then turns around, freezing as he does. I look up, glancing around the room. This must be where Isaac was being kept, but all I see are three empty cells. Two of them are empty, their barred doors closed; the middle one has a solid metal door, but it's clearly been broken open from the inside.

Isaac is gone.

An instant later, someone slams into the guy from the side, hurling him across the room and slamming him down on a table. It's Isaac; he's completely wolfed out, fully transformed, his eyes glowing yellow, sideburns grown down his cheeks, and his fangs and claws extended. He spins and throws the hunter across the room, slamming him into the opposite wall. The hunter raises his left hand, clutching a syringe filled with dark liquid – obviously wolfsbane – as Isaac hits him again, grabbing his arm and forcing it down until he drops the syringe with a cry of pain. Isaac grabs his head and slams it backwards against the wall, knocking the hunter unconscious. He crumples to the floor as Derek bursts into the room and immediately stomps on the fallen syringe, crushing it under his heel. Isaac spins and growls at him, but immediately shifts his attention to me. Isaac snarls and starts towards me, but Derek jumps in between us and roars at Isaac, his fangs extended and his eyes glowing red. Isaac recoils, cowering back against the wall and covering his face. When he lowers his arm and lifts his head, his face has shifted back to normal.

I suck in deep breaths, trying to calm down, and refocus on Derek. "How did you do that?"

Derek turns to face me and smiles. "I'm the Alpha."

.

_**Scott**_

I roar at the top of my lungs, hurling myself against the lid of the freezer with all of my strength, desperate to escape and help Allison. From that scream, she's in serious trouble. I can feel the freezer denting, the lid and sides distorting, and the chain giving way; that gives me the necessary motivation to keep going, and I roar even louder, shoving with everything I have.

And then it happens; metal bends, the links giving way one by one; the padlock snaps, the chain breaks, and the lid bursts open.

.

_**Allison**_

I scream again, jumping backwards as the creature moves towards me, its eyes glowing yellow. It's not a werewolf; I've never seen anything like this. The creature, which had been standing upright, lowers itself into a crouch and moves forward, hissing.

My hand finds a knife in its holder on the kitchen counter, and I yank it free. "Come on," I growl. The creature ignores me, continuing to crawl slowly forward. "COME ON!" I scream.

An instant later, the door of the basement explodes off of its hinges as Scott smashes through it and bursts into the room, snarling at the creature. With a hiss, the creature scrambles up the wall and upside-down across the ceiling. It pauses briefly and snarls at us, revealing a face straight out of a nightmare; skin covered with dark green scales, glowing yellow eyes with catlike slits for pupils, and multiple rows of razor-sharp teeth. I flinch backwards, and Scott spins to face the creature as it drops to the floor. Rather than stay and fight, it turns and runs straight down the entrance hallway, smashing through the front door and disappearing into the night with one last screech. Scott and I straighten up, gazing after it.

"What the hell was that?" I whisper.

Scott shakes his head. "I don't know."

.

_**Sam Goode**_

I'm sitting in my car, down the street from this guy Isaac's house. Bernie Kosar is sitting in the passenger's seat beside me, gazing up at the full moon overhead. I've been here for about two hours already; the last people I saw were two guys, that guy Jackson from the lacrosse team and someone else I didn't recognize, standing outside Jackson's house. That was several hours ago, and I'm becoming incredibly bored.

I must have fallen asleep, because a noise abruptly brings me back to awareness. It's Bernie Kosar; he's got his front paws up on the passenger's-side door and is staring fixedly towards Isaac's house, growling. And then I hear it; a scream, unmistakably coming from within the house. My eyes widen as I lean forward, looking towards the house. Another faint yell emanates from the house, and then silence for several seconds. I lean even further forward, listening intently.

Abruptly, the front door of the house bursts off its hinges and crashes to the ground, and I catch a brief flash of a monstrous-looking figure charging down the street – straight at my car. I yell, throwing myself backwards as the figure leaps onto my hood, giving me a quick, split-second view of green scales, glowing yellow eyes and long, razor-sharp claws, and then bounds to the roof and down to the street behind the car. An instant later, it's gone.

I look frantically around, gasping for air as my eyes bulge in shock.

_What in the holy hell was that?!_

.

_**Stiles**_

My dad bursts into the room about a minute after Derek and Isaac leave, followed by several of his deputies. I'm the only one in the room, except for the unconscious body of the hunter. My dad stares at me for a moment, the unspoken question of _"What the hell is going on?"_ obvious just from his expression.

I answered the only way I could think of; I glance around the cell and then point at the unconscious hunter. "Uh, he did it."

.

_**John/Four**_

Six and I have just arrived outside of the police station, and we can clearly hear the sound of a fire alarm going off inside.

"What's going on?" Six asks.

I shrug. "No idea."

As we start to walk closer, two figures exit the building through a side door and slip away silently, clearly trying to avoid attention. One is Isaac; the other is the man who was talking to Scott at the school. They race away from the building and disappear into an alley. I glance over at Six, and it's obvious that she's seen them too.

"Did they just break him out of a police station?" Six asks.

I nod. "Looks like it."

We exchange glances. Then Six says, "We should probably get out of here."

"That's probably a good idea, yeah."

.

We arrive back at home about twenty minutes later. To my surprise, Sam is already there, sitting on the couch with Bernie Kosar sitting next to him and a vaguely shell-shocked expression on his face. His head snaps up as I open the door, with a look of fear on his face until he realizes it's us. "Oh, thank god."

"Something wrong?" I ask as we walk in, Six closing and locking the door behind us, and sit down on the couch beside Sam.

"Well, I almost died tonight, but other than that, I'm great," Sam says, with a laugh that's faintly tinged with hysteria.

"What happened?" Six exclaims.

Sam looks from me to Six and back again, his expression haunted. "Trust me, guys, there's something going on in this town that's a _lot_ worse than a serial killer."

.

_**Jackson**_

My eyes snap open. I sit bolt upright with a gasp, looking around. I'm in my bed; nothing appears to have changed since I went to sleep. I scramble out of bed and reach immediately for the video camera I borrowed from Matt, still mounted on its tripod facing the bed. I grab the camera, remove it from the tripod, and sit down as I replay the video footage from last night. As I continue to view the footage, fastforwarding through the night's footage, my heart sinks.

"What? No! No, no, no!" I grit my teeth in anger and toss the camera to the floor.

"Jackson?" my mother calls from downstairs. "Is something wrong?"

"No!" I snap. "Nothing's wrong; nothing happened." I turn back, staring furiously at the discarded camera, which shows an image of me sleeping. Just sleeping. No glowing eyes, no transformation. Nothing at all. Not a single thing out of the ordinary, for the entire night.

"Nothing at all," I whisper.

.

_**Five**_

Observing the night's events wasn't as difficult as I'd anticipated. I'd watched the action at the police station from the roof of the building. Personally, I was surprised that it was taking this long for John – or Carter, as I'd heard he was calling himself here – and the two other kids with him to figure out what was going on in Beacon Hills. Then again, I hadn't really known what was going on in this town until a few weeks ago, and I still definitely don't know all the finer points; I have a general idea of the situation, though.

I wake up early, get dressed, and decide to get in some quick exercise before school. My Cêpan, Caleb, is also up, as usual, and having a bowl of cereal as I enter. His brown hair is spiked up in the front, as usual, and he's wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans. He nods and smiles as I enter. "Morning. Orange juice?"

"Sure," I say, walking forward and sitting down at the table. Caleb hands me a glass and the carton, and I fill the glass with orange juice and take several swallows, the sweet juice and rush of sugar helping to deal with the exhaustion brought on by my exercise.

"Any plans for today?" Caleb asks.

I shake my head. "Not really, no. Pretty ordinary."

Caleb nods, smiling. "Well, have a good day. Make sure you get home on time, we've got some training to do after school."

"Will do."

As I leave the house, I find myself thinking about John Smith again. It's getting more difficult to keep him concealed; I'm going to have to be more careful for now, until I'm ready to reveal my identity to him.

I reach down and smile as I rub the three scars on my ankle. _There won't be a fourth one there, John Smith. I promise you that._

.

**AN: Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I've been insanely busy lately. I'll have the next chapter up as soon as possible.**

**Also, just because I know someone's going to ask about this, let me clarify; the fact that Five's Cêpan, Caleb, is male DOES NOT MEAN that Five is also a guy. In the canon Lorien Legacies series, two of the female Garde members (Ella and Number Two) had male Cêpans. So, Five could still be either a boy or a girl. Remember that.**

**Oh, and in case anyone's wondering, Caleb basically looks like Paul Wesley, who plays Stefan Salvatore on _The Vampire Diaries_.**

**And also, just as an update, one of my other stories got written faster than I'd anticipated, so I'm announcing the premiere of my new story, _The Darach's Apprentice_! For those of you who haven't read my note for last chapter, that story deals with a "what if" storyline in which, after Matt Daehler was killed by Gerard in Season 2, he is revived as a Darach by Jennifer Blake to help her with her vendetta against the Alpha pack. I encourage all of you to check it out!**

**Shout-outs to kc1690 and FireWolfMoon for reviewing! Always appreciated. Please keep them coming! (Again, no hate, please).**

**See you all next time!**

**Review Q&A:**

**Q: Well, things are about to get bloody. Isaac is a ticking time bomb. But I mean all that he's dealt with, you sort of can't blame him. And I wonder if Scott or Stiles are thinking that Carter (John) is a werewolf with how he did on the field? I will be reading your other stories, they sound good. Especially the vampire one.**

**A: Very true, you can't really blame Isaac; he's the product of his background. And, as this chapter shows, they don't really think that John is a werewolf; they don't know what he is. And thanks, I appreciate the interest in my stories. I should be releasing the first chapter of _Blood Ties_, the vampire story centered around my OC (Scott's cousin, Adam Davies), within the next couple of weeks, and the other two stories will also premiere at some point soon. I hope all of you will enjoy them!**

**Q: Hope Stiles is Number 5. He is awesome and very resourceful.**

**A: He definitely is awesome and very resourceful. Is he Number Five? Well, we'll have to wait and see who Five is. Hopefully you found the scene with Five in this chapter interesting; I'm trying to give readers a little information about Five's background without giving away any details that would reveal his or her identity. Don't worry, we'll all know who Five is soon enough.**


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